So, last night is the 4th of July, and I live in the East Village/Alphabet City, NYC, not too far below where everyone gathers for the East River/Macy's Fireworks. You know what's coming, right?
I'm sound asleep in my bed, visions of sugarplums and an early ride in my head. At exactly 3:26 I wake up with a start, after a sharp visual of my bike getting tipped over. I check the time and promptly fall back asleep.
This morning I go out there, and it's on its side. #)&&)%. I pick it up. The left turn signals are bent/cracked, but they were already taped up when I got the bike. Lenses good and all lights work. Clutch bent like a waxed handlebar mustache, but I can probably bend it back. I think I need to check the bolts on the tank (it was almost empty, and it sometimes wobbles) and re-seat it in the frame. I already scored a set of mint front turn signals but I'll just tape the bent ones up again and hunt down a set of rear spares.
I have to go out with some duct tape and check out the rest of the bike and start it up.
Of course, I'm pissed. I've gotten smart about parking and I had a good 3-4 feet on either side. You'd have to be, well, drunk or blind, to have knocked it over. Should've taken my chances on a sidewalk ticket on a major drunk-tank holiday.
Anyway, the part that's weird is the dream. It was parked across the street from my 7th floor apartment, and I'm profoundly Deaf, so I couldn't have *heard* it fall.
Are we really symbiotically attached to our bikes?
KD
I'm sound asleep in my bed, visions of sugarplums and an early ride in my head. At exactly 3:26 I wake up with a start, after a sharp visual of my bike getting tipped over. I check the time and promptly fall back asleep.
This morning I go out there, and it's on its side. #)&&)%. I pick it up. The left turn signals are bent/cracked, but they were already taped up when I got the bike. Lenses good and all lights work. Clutch bent like a waxed handlebar mustache, but I can probably bend it back. I think I need to check the bolts on the tank (it was almost empty, and it sometimes wobbles) and re-seat it in the frame. I already scored a set of mint front turn signals but I'll just tape the bent ones up again and hunt down a set of rear spares.
I have to go out with some duct tape and check out the rest of the bike and start it up.
Of course, I'm pissed. I've gotten smart about parking and I had a good 3-4 feet on either side. You'd have to be, well, drunk or blind, to have knocked it over. Should've taken my chances on a sidewalk ticket on a major drunk-tank holiday.
Anyway, the part that's weird is the dream. It was parked across the street from my 7th floor apartment, and I'm profoundly Deaf, so I couldn't have *heard* it fall.
Are we really symbiotically attached to our bikes?
KD
#(^
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