A Tipping Point And A Sea Change

I never saw this day coming...

Most of us, by the time we get to a certain age, make this declaration (perhaps with a sigh) over one thing or another.  Some of us never thought we'd be working in the jobs or careers in which we've found ourselves.  Others never thought we'd see our kids (fill in the blank).  Still others never thought they'd see the day they'd buy a non-American car--until, of course, they bought their Camries.  And then there are those who never,ever thought they'd eat raw fish and rice until they had sushi.

Well, I am having a "I never imagined this would happen" moment.  In my case, it's neither a good nor a bad thing.  All I can say is that it, looking back, it seems inevitable (Doesn't everything, in retrospect?) and I'm rather enjoying?

So what is this milestone in my life?  Well, I now have five bikes.  That ties my personal record, which I last achieved about a dozen years ago.  However, I don't have any of the five bikes I had then. 

You see, of the five bikes I now have, I acquired three specifically because of something that's happened in my life since I had those other five bikes. And I got the other two because of the ways I think about my riding and my bikes has changed since my life-changing event.

Some of you who have been following this blog (or my other) may have already guessed what's happened.  I reached a tipping point last week when Miss Mercian II arrived at my door:  I now own more "women's" than "men's" bikes. Specifically, I now have three mixte and two diamond frames.

Hey, we're talking about something even more important--at least for me--than the Senate going to the Republicans or the House to the Democrats.  I can already feel the ground shifting under me or, at least, the road conditions changing under my tires.  Yes, it really is Ariel's "sea change" in The Tempest.

All right, so I was being just a little hyperbolic.  (Is "a little hyperbolic" an oxymoron?)  But just today it occured to me "girls rule," if you will, in my bike stable.  Back when I had those other five bikes, if you had told me this day would come, I would have said that you've been inhaling helium out of inner tubes.

I had thought about selling or giving Marianela away. The former wouldn't bring me very much cash, really.  The latter option might be a nice thing to do.  I've already given one bike to an organization that helps immigrant workers; perhaps someone else could benefit from the largesse. 

Then again, I could leave her locked up outside and use her for errands that are really short or that take me to high-risk places.  She's serving that purpose now, and she has been my regular commuter and transportation bike.  So she'll get a lighter workload, which she might appreciate. And I could also use her as a loaner or guest bike.

But most important, if I want to keep that majority for which I've fought long and hard ;-), I've got to keep her!

Stripping Marianela

Oh, the indignities of being a commuter bike.  


It's a good thing I didn't complete the one and only course I ever took in gender studies.  Otherwise, Marianela and I would really be at it.  And, really, in spite of what you may have heard about me, I'm really not the argumentative type. ;-)


You see, she is in the process of donating parts to other bikes, namely my new Miss Mercian.  She insists I'm stripping her.  I mean, today she had to endure being seen without fenders along a busy thoroughfare.  Imagine how you would feel if lots of people were looking at you after somebody took your fenders.


Not only that, the--She's insisting that I say "her"--Gyes saddle is gone.  Actually, she traded it for the saddle that came with the new bike.  

It would have been one thing if I'd actually finished that gender studies course and taken others.  But can you imagine what Marianela would be saying if she'd read The Handmaid's Tale?  She'd tell me I was turning her into a Breeder or something.  


Well, I'm not going to give her a copy of THT because, truthfully, it sucks.  It has plot holes you can pedal your Surly Long Haul through, and I simply couldn't believe that women had, in essence, developed a collective case of Stockholm Syndrome--one of the basic premises of the book.


And, let's face it, if Marinela is protesting the loss of "her" fenders and saddle, she has a mind of her own.  I respect her for that, even if I disagree with her accusations!  

A Bumette's View

I was such a bum today.  Actually "bum" has kind of a male connotation to it.  At least, I don't recall anyone referring to a woman as a "bum."  Are there bumettes?  Hmm...That sounds like the name of a band or something.


(Speaking of bands:  I actually played drums for a local punk rock band when I was in college.  Back then, it was perfect for me because I didn't have to be very good at it, and I could do it drunk, which I often was in those days. But I digress.)


So how much of a bumette was I?  Well, for one thing, I slept very late.  And when I opened my door, I felt as if I'd stepped into a blast furnace.  That destroyed my incentive to do much of anything.  So I didn't ride today.  


And what do they say about idle hands?  Well, actually, I had stuff to do, but I procrastinated a bit.   I finally listed a few things on eBay, including a couple of parts I pulled off the bike I just bought.


I find that I prefer photographing most bikes and parts in daylight.  So I find myself moving into all kinds of weird spaces and position to get the light or space I'm seeking.  Sometimes, I'll go into the driveway next to where I live, as it is partly covered.  And it offers some interesting views:

Once I leave the confines of the driveway, the shifters turn  into deadly weapons:

Tomorrow morning, I'm definitely getting up early and going for a ride!