Whew! I made it into the box and I’m going to get to go to Tucson! You just don’t know, dear reader, how excited that makes me this year. What? We do this every year this time, you say? Yes, but….humans are so fragile. Some humans think bikes are fragile, but, you know, there are some really old bikes out there still working just fine — look at any L’Eroica style event! Steel bikes can last a really long time, but humans? They last a while, but repairs can take so long. Sigh….
So, you know all about that little episode with my human just before we were set to leave for the Southern crossing. Galanas is still feeling bad, but nary a scratch on that bike despite the human cracking the helmet and sustaining a pelvic fracture. In the end, I had to make the trip of shame back in a cardboard box while the human recovered.
Then, by the time human recovered, winter was approaching up here in the north. The humans got some hiking in, but no riding for me. So, life should have returned to normal for us, eh? Blah….no.
Turns out, humans are fragile (I said that already, didn’t I?). Well, and here I get a little fuzzy because humans are weirdly put together (not like a beautiful steel bicycle), so bear with me as I try to describe things in terms I can comprehend. It turns out my human has bad genes. Best as I can understand it, that would be to a bike like using defective steel for my frame tubes. If my frame were made from bad steel, I could rust out; the human’s bad genes mean defective patches (I think they call them tumors) can show up in the human’s tubes even if they take care of themselves.
OK, now here’s where I get confused. My frame is a simple, closed diamond frame — top tube, down tube, seat tube, stays and a fork. Simple. The human also has tube-ish things. You know how the humans are always eating, right? Well, that’s the start of their tubing. They push food in one end, it travels through their plumbing, generating the fuel that gets us down the road and then finally it uh…errr…well, we won’t go there. Fragile. But, that’s the problem with my human…those bad genes caused a blemish spot on the plumbing and the human had to go to a specialized human mechanic to have it removed.
Here, again, this all doesn’t make a lot of sense to me…so to me a blemish is rust and it is just a little steel wool, some anti rust, maybe paint and I’m back on the road, no? Well…fragile…fragile. The human had to have a whole section of the plumbing removed and reconnected. Really? The human explained it to me as if we cut out 1/2 my down tube and 1/2 my top tube out and bent the pieces to reconnect. Say, what? That sounds terribly painful, not to mention disastrous for a bike, but that can work for humans? Really?
But, here, apparently, is where humans have an advantage — they’re more malleable than bikes. Painful and fatal as that sounds to a bike, the human is doing fine. Sure, it was painful and the human had to stay at the shop for several days, but after several weeks now, the human is looking good again. The human’s mechanic wrote a clean bill of health — no more of those rusty patches exist and they didn’t spread. The mechanic said , “Get back to life. Go ride those horses.” Wait? Horses? Sigh..human mechanics… sigh…but I am a trusty steed, am I not?!?!?!? Hmmm…maybe the mechanic was right.
So, the human and I are headed to Tucson. The human is out of shape having only done light activity for quite a while. In Tucson, we’ll ride one leg a day and play with Susan and the lunch crews for the rest of the time, all while Edwin and his human get to ride. Weird, eh? Edwin will ride and my human and I will do support? Well, guess it is his turn. Well deserved for him and his human, if you ask me. They need the vacation more than us.
Travels With Edwina 