Lemmings, Fucking Lemmings

by

My bike hung in the window less than twelve hours before some one was changing their order to match mine.

Biatch.

BACK OFF.  I designed that.  Mine.  Me.

Yeah, whatever, there’s no “I” in team.  I am not at work anymore so I don’t have to play nicey pants with you all day long on the phone and via e-mail, as I did today–all day today–because your fickle little heart changed it’s mind.

By the way.

Wrong paint color.

But, frankly, I had no desire to relay that information to you.  You can stick with the black matte frame.  And yeah, it bugs me that you copied my wheels and my crank and my handle bars.  But then, you have a poor design aesthetic, dontcha?

You needed to have it there in front of your eyes and instead of wanting to create your own custom build one of a kind, that’s the point, fyi. You went with a copy cat.

But, sister, you’re copy cat ain’t got jack on my ride.  Thank you very much.  The point is to be imaginative.  The point is to know what you want, not what somebody else wants.

I did not get any standard components.  I did not get a standard paint job.  I got a gorgeous über dark navy blue with rock star sparkle top coat–which you did not notice when you walked by as the store’s light system was not on and it does not glitter without light shining on it.

Tomorrow, I take it down from the window.  Tomorrow, she becomes mine, all mine.

I am possesive, can you tell?

I bought a hoist today at the store.  Now, when am I going to have the time to install this, fuck if I know.  But installation will happen.  I think I may end up asking a few of my friends who are handier with a power tool than I;  I could probably do it, but my track record of late with the whole falling over, well, I may ask for help instead of falling off the ladder.  I could just see that happening way to clearly.

Over book my self and try to get it done and teeter right off the ladder.  No, how about I just avert that situation right now and say I will ask for help instead.  And if it doesn’t get done this weekend I will not die.

But, I am going to take my bike out of the window tomorrow.  I will go for my first ride and she will be coming home with me.  I will be leaving my Felt at work for Carlos.  He and I have worked out a deal on it.  He’s going to be doing the AIDS LifeCycle ride and I know his money situation (I work where he does!) and I am going to let him have it now and pay me in installments.

I can afford to do that.  It feels quite nice to be able to help him out, help out the AIDS LifeCycle people, in a round about way, and have this lovely little road bike take another tour down to LA.

Tomorrow will be my last ride to work in clipless pedals.  I will leave the Felt with Carlos, I am also gifting him my SiDi shoes so he can ride and train right away, and I will ride off after work in my tennis shoes.

This is very exciting.  Especially as I loathe carrying around extra shoes with me and I miss wearing nice shoes when I am out and about.  Now I can ride in my nice shoes, or my Vans, or my clogs, or heels, if I want to.  Smashing.

The lemmings comment comes from Brian, our head mechanic, supervisor, builder extraordinaire.  He has the same problem with his bike.  He built something beautiful and unique, all chrome frame, chrome fork, one speed fixed with clipless pedals, chrome hubs, Velocity B43s in black and no brakes.  It is clean and sexy and dangerous.

And oft emulated.  With a tweak here or there, since his bicycle went up in the gallery, there have been a lot of imitators.

I am partially flattered, in truth, as it’s a nice little pat on the back, “hey you did such a nice job designing, I want that too”.  Imitation is a compliment, but my ego wants me to have it all be original and mine and nobody elses.

I want to be terminally unique.

Fact is, I am anything but.  I am human.  I had to change components on my bike a few times.  I was swayed when I saw a pretty bike go out and an interesting match up of components.  I took months to design my ride before I pulled the trigger and wrote up a build sheet.

What I wish I could have expressed to the girl is that she had crafted a really sweet, endearing, pretty bicycle on her own.  She chose a different style of handle bar–the Montmartre–which we special order and she had a different blue paint than what I typically see people buying.

Plus, she had to eat it on the paint job.  She got charged as we painted up the frame.  And she got charged again for having to blast the paint off the frame.  The sucks.  And when the finalized decisions all came down the line, you could see it was muddled.  Too much design left from the old bike and not enough from my bike.

She compromised.

I have learned that I am never happy when I compromise.  I regret it later.  Which, is why I chose to tell Brian to go back to my original bars despite having proceeded forward with a different set upon his recommendations.  I pleased him, not myself, and regretted it the moment I saw the bars.

Gratefully I said something.  And now I have the bars of my dreams, lovingly wrapped in leather Fi’zik tape.  Super sexy.

This is a great reminder to me as I go forward with my plans for the weekend.  Don’t compromise on something because it is cheap or on sale.  Stick with what you want.  Take the time to find out.

My bike was probably seven different colors before I landed on my current paint choice.  But when I made that final decision, I knew.  I knew without a doubt that it was the right call.

I guess some one else did too.

I can empathize with that.

But, I ain’t gonna tell her she picked the wrong color.

No, I am not.

She can have her one-off.  I got the original ride.

 

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