more than meets the eye.

bicycles are magical.

take, for instance, my current inability to feel most of my extremities. the once mundane/routine/underdistanced task of tapping out thoughts in coherent words and sentences has become a work of effort, requiring extreme concentration and a new consideration of my fine motor skills. consider, also, the wonderful warming of my facial dermis, and the rekindling of sensation in each and every square millimeter just under my chin. i never think about these parts of myself. and now, after some time on the bicycle, here they are, apparent and wonderful and decidedly me. i like bikes.

i also like how bikes make people better.

i leave the door open at my workplace, dump a bunch of donated bikes and parts all over the room, pop open my personal toolbox, and start getting my hands dirty. inevitably, within ten minutes or fewer (i'm usually still downing my lunch when it happens), someone will come wandering in with a question, a broken bike, or some hands just itching to touch something greasy. it's fantastic. oftentimes, these persons are 'the youth', and they are refreshingly curious, even if reluctantly so, and it makes them better people. they ask questions. they tease each other. they admit that they know little of bikes, or they admit how much they know of bikes and it's enough to make me excited. the same people i would just as soon have left for jail or hard service are now transformed and being worthwhile and all about a pile of rusted bike junk. and the guy they would just as soon have thrown out the window or laughed at while he gets crushed by a fly-by SUV is now someone who might know something and might even be a little bit cool because he likes bikes too, and can fix them at no charge. hm. bikes make me better. every damn time.

i like how bicycles make loblaws a destination that has nothing to do with food. (see redway road, toronto.) i like how bicycles make me go faster than 42mph without even trying, and then make me go 3mph giving it everything i've got. i like how bicycles can be metaphors for the hardest and best parts of life. i like how i know a lot about bicycles, and still so very little. i like how bicycles bring the world to me. i like how bicycles are something in common with many different people, everywhere.

i was walking back from my sister's house the other night, heading down pape street, and carrying a couple of campagnolo wheelbags. (more on the ridiculously awesome scirocco's later.) two gentlemen were standing outside the barber shop, and as i passed by, one called out. i had no idea what he was saying, but he was definitely talking to me, and talking about the wheels, it seemed. he apologized after the third time i said, 'what?', and said that he would slow himself down. turns out he is from jamaica. he saw my wheelbags and wanted to see the wheels, wondered if they were really campagnolo wheels inside. we opened one and he took it out (my daughters and partner waiting patiently throughout this inter-walk-home-meeting), marveling and asking if it was for sale. i told him no, that i had just gotten them myself. he asked for how much, and said it was a great deal. that they were really nice wheels. he told me he used to race in jamaica. i told him that meant he must be crazy fast. he just smiled and looked wistful and spry and fast. i smiled and told him to have a great night. it was the highlight of my weekend. a guy from jamaica talks to a guy from nowhere about italian bike parts on a street in toronto and they both get excited about one thing: bikes.

bicycles are magical. 

focus.

my grandmother has a blog. she's a feisty almost-80-year-old with a million grandchildren and even more friends, she's on facebook, and she updates her family weekly with the goingson of just about everyone. i bet obama is on her mailing list, lucky guy.

anyway, i began this blog in the hopes of writing more, maybe gaining some kind of cohesion, and ultimately to stimulate the typing/theoretical/verbal side of my brain which generally goes a bit dormant during the summer (or, any time between 7 am and...). the address for this blog is tucked neatly into the top left hand corner of my browser window, the first icon i see. it's been intimidating me all weekend. the reason i have refrained from 'posting' on my 'blog' is the simple fact that i lack focus. 

i have lots to say. i have too much to say. i don't know that any of it is even worthy of air and sound, but there's lots that could take such form. i could write about all the craigslist posting that drives me crazy because no one seems to know that your and you're are entirely different things, somewhat similar to the relationship between its and it's. i could write about bike things on craigslist, like peddles (that means, s/he/it sells something) on bikes that won't stop because 'there' wheels don't have good 'breaks'. i shouldn't have started. this could go on for days. i will stop here. however, i still have lots to say. too much. my brother noted that a new friend of his talks really quickly. i mentioned that it might be because she's a teacher, and as such, she may be used to ever-shortening attention spans in overcrowded classrooms and has thereby adapted a hastened pace of verbal communication in the hopes of effectively communicating within the reduced time frame available (this is about 5-90 seconds, depending on demographic). ironically, focus has now become a problem for me. please pass the Ritalyn.

alright. so today's exercise will be focus. i will focus on one topic, write, and end. i will likely attempt this again, per post, to eventually yield some kind of text that errs more on the side of interesting than that of blithering.

upgrading is a dangerous disease. it is based in the 1950s-esque tradition of creating envy, whereby an audience is recognized for what they are/have, but told explicitly that they could be better/complete/happier/______er if only they bought this. it is within my heritage, culturally and genetically, to like stuff, particularly gear. it is also within my heritage to be subject to–and base my self-worth upon–the judgement of others. i am the perfect audience. i think i'm alright, but i will believe you if you tell me that i'm alright, and i'll believe you again if you tell me that i only need this to be better, to be my ideal self. i know this, because tyler knows this.

my bike is a technological wonder. not only does it shove my sorry ass up hills faster than i would ever go unassisted, but it's pretty, resilient, and it works! further to its technological wonder status is the fact that it is quite a frankenbike, built through the extensive network of ebay, craigslist, various online vendors, local shops, friends, foes, and even a box of shotgun ammo. (that's right.) up until this spring, the bike had a part from every line campagnolo put out, ranging in age from early 1990s to the mid 2000s. the ever-changing bar tape is the only thing that isn't older than my lease. and all this to say that i recently thought about stripping the whole thing and starting anew with a complete, coherent, maybe even focused groupset. i thought about carbon fiber things. i thought about titanium nuts. i thought about (ridiculously) eleven speeds. don't worry though: i stopped thinking as soon as i thought about other things, like re-building yet another wheel, changing the bar tape, again (it is currently perforated, red, and absolutely perfect), and ultimately, my bank account/unemployment/fiscal responsibility/beer fund. my bike will remain the technological wonder it is. i will adjust the rear derailleur once i get the barrel adjuster hole re-tapped. the shifting will return to normal. and i will have saved myself $698.47 USD including shipping and handling. damn it... 

i was almost enviable.