25 June 2016

Don't Mess With....My Hair!

He was a young guy, in really good shape.  She was the attractive young woman who dated him...though, not for very long.

So what, exactly, was the "deal breaker"?  No, one didn't find out the other had a spouse and family in another country--or was an axe-murderer.  And no other "dim, dark" secret--like the one that led to my other blog--was revealed.

By now, you've probably guessed that I was telling one of my stories, in third (rather than first) person.  So...do you want to know why I broke up with her?

All right...I'll tell you anyway.  She wouldn't go bike riding with me.  In fact, she wouldn't ride a bike, period.  

OK.  This is nothing new. I'm sure some of you are, or have been, in relationships with people who don't want to get on the saddle and pedal.  Perhaps you, too, ended a relationship with a person for that reason. Or, maybe, you've found a way to accomodate your differences:  You go for your rides while your beloved does something else.  Afterward, you wine and dine together and, to burn up those calories, engage in another kind of physical activity--one that generates more wattage than a dynohub and LED headlamp! ;-)

Now, being as young as I was, I had almost no concept of compromise and no skills in mediation.  (I still don't have much of either, I'm afraid.)  So there was simply no way I could come up with a solution--even to keep such an attractive young woman at my side and keep up the appearance of being a macho heterosexual male.

But even if I were more adept at the art of negotiation, I wouldn't have wanted to come up with a way to keep us together.  You see, what really bothered me was the reason she wouldn't ride:  She was afraid that it would mess up her hair.

I kid you not. (When was the last time you heard that?)  She always kept herself perfectly coiffed.  (Later, another partner would keep me perfectly cuffed.;-)) Of course, when I met her, that was one of the first things I noticed:  her nearly perfect chestnut mane.  Still, I told myself, it was entirely frivoulous and pointless (I actually used to say things like that to myself!) to devote so much of one's attention to such a thing--and to deny one's self other pleasures and experiences in the service of such devotion.

Now, many years (decades, actually) later, I can say this:  I wanted her hair.  And I wanted permission to be so fussy about it!  Yes, I was jealous.

Anyway, I hadn't thought about her, or the story I've recounted in a long time--until I saw this:

If you don't live in or around Roanoke, Virginia, you might not know that such a rack was actually built.  Its creators--the design team of the Knowhow Shop--say it was inspired by this question:  "What would I lock my bike to if I were really small?"

I wonder whether any of them had a girlfriend who wouldn't ride because she was afraid that it would mess her hair.


  1. One who loved to ride left me and one who hated the thought of being on a bicycle took me on. When your heart and soul knows that the bicycle is the perfect mode of transport the frustration can be equated with that which you experienced in your previous life...

    I do not have a dynohub or LED headlamp, what is that paragraph all about?

  2. When was the last time I heard "I kid you not"? It was in 1962 when the originator of the phrase, Jack Paar, used it on his last appearance as host of the "Tonight" show before turning it over to Johnny Carson.

    Justine, your euphemistic flights of fantasy have reached new heights. Dynohub and LED headlamp??? That you DON'T need? Burning calories? The mind boggles putting all that together. But surely somebody's hair would get messed up in the process...

    The reason we enjoy your blog is because you obviously enjoy doing it.


  3. Coline--I love what you say about cycling and karma. I've edited the part about the LED and Dynohub a bit so that it makes more sense.

    Leo--I was a wee, wee tot when Jack Paar hosted the "Tonight" show. I'd heard somewhere that he originated the phrase, and I always associated it with my parents' generation.

    Ah, yes, euphemism. It's a lot of fun when you're not using it to deceive anyone. (I think now of how napalm became "soft ordnance".) It's especially fun when it involves talking about sex without using the word. Perhaps it's the original form of irony.

    1. Darn, I have been inspired to order a dynohub and LED lighting to see what all the suss is about, just waiting for delivery...

      For more than forty years I kept my hair and nails as long as they would go. This certainly meant that house and garden maintenance projects were restricted, irony is now in my new life I have short hair and mostly broken nails as I try to catch up on lost time but with reduced strength. Oh well, sun shines, have to go.

    2. Justine:

      The "other blog" does not seem to be taking comments.

      Bravo! FT&P! THAT is a euphemism for "I think I'll pass on this one".


    3. Coline--It's easier for me to have long hair than it is to have long nails. Actually, I've only briefly had long nails.

      Leo--Thanks for pointing out the problem on the other blog. I'll fix it.

      Bravo! FT&P! I love it!

    4. Leo--My other blog should be taking comments. At the bottom fof each post, there's a link that says "No comments" or "(number of) comments".

      While I allow nearly unlimited access for comments on this blog, I "quarantine" them for approval on the other blog. As you can imagine, I,ve receieved some really nasty, obsecene and derogatory comments there.

  4. I've tried and tried to get my wife to ride (I didn't want that to rhyme) and built up bikes specifically for her, but she really just doesn't seem comfortable (like, skill-wise - not saddle-wise) or "natural" on a bike. That's always bummed me out. But I've been able to instill the enjoyment of riding with the kids.

  5. Brooks--I'm not such a modernist (or postmodernist or whatever) that I'd diss you for rhyming.

    At least you're passing your pleasure on to your daughters, even if you can't share it with your wife.