… Straight into a Hedgerow

I had hoped to be writing this entry from the hard saddle of my new bike/trainer setup. Alas, I it was not to be. Don’t despair devoted readers, it is but a minor speed bump. Last night, I brought the frame, wheels, and trainer to assemble in my living room. The trainer took no effort to prepare, but when it came to the bike …

Well, let’s just say I’m less than mechanically inclined. I sort of missed out on the bike phase of my childhood. Yes, I had bike around age 10 and a suburban neighborhood in which to ride—including an expansive church parking lot—but I was not wont to follow the trails my father and siblings carved all over that town in their youth. I never even considered standing up on the pedals to go faster or up hills—the thought never crossed my mind. And then I moved. I attempted to continue to biking in a new neighborhood filled with steep little hills with five minute rides to friends’ houses. But between the dogs, the roads and shoulders unfriendly to cyclists, and outgrowing my basic mountain bike my time in the saddle regrettably ended. Needless to say, I am not a skilled rider. I follow passing businesswomen, messengers, delivery guys, and hipsters on their fixed gears with the same looks of jealousy I gave to the kids speeding across campus all those years at school. But let’s forget my unhealthy fixation on cycling and my unfulfilled childhood, and get back to the grease and gears.

As I understood it, I needed to remove the axle from the rear wheel and replace it with the axle skewer that fits in the trainer. So I took off the series of nuts and washers and pulled the axle from the rear wheel. Okay, step one—check. Now, let’s put the new axle in. Okay … Right. And now back on to the bike. Um… Nope. Let’s grab the chain and … oh, god. That’s a lot of grease. My hands are black. Great. Whatever. So the tire fits between the brake pads … and I have to hold the frame up with the other hand, and then crank the pedals, and mess with the derailleur, and fit the chain on the gear ring, and stick the axle there and try to screw it in … Do I have it? No, that can’t be right. Nope. Okay, off it comes.

So I removed the rear wheel and realized that I should probably have put back on all the washers and nuts I pulled off the other axle. Okay, I tried to line them up in the order in which I removed them, so this shouldn’t be so difficult, even though my hands are covered in god knows what … where’s that paper towel? Okay, axle’s in, one side of stuff back on and now—wait. This piece is still on the original axle rod. And it won’t come off. Time for the wrenches. I reach for the wooden toolbox I constructed as a Cub Scout (sitting around in my garage for 15 years, and it’s finally useful), and pull out a wrench or pliers or something. Then I go at it. Twist off. Twist off, dammit. Tim, let’s try this together. Argh. C’mon, you little … Nothing. No movement whatsoever. And the attempt to have this bike up and running in one evening stalls. For evidence of my misery and the dastardly part, the following (courtesy of Tim, my personal portraitist):

Being a tad impatient, I began a regimen of coating the offending part (Damn you to the depths of Hell!) in WD-40, waiting several minutes, then going at it again. Nothing. So I let it soak over night. And as my morning tea steeped … nothing. Okay. Time to consult reference material and go to the experts. So I stopped my “local” Manhattan library to check out a few bicycle maintenance guides to have on hand for the production. And once at I home (yes, I tried to pry the thing off as soon as I got in the door), I wrapped up my pieces and walked to the local (really this time) bike shop. As it turns out, due to their winter schedule, the shop is only open two days a week. And today is not one of them. Well, at least it was a nice day for walk.

Hmm…is that dinner I smell? No, wait, just the burning overflow of Mandy’s apple pie. Oh god, here comes the smoke … (more blogging to come)