Bike Pricks

I don't usually use my blog to vent about bullshit, but I'm going to do some venting about some bullshit today.

I need to get my bike tuned up, as it has languished unridden for a year and is rusty and clangy and generally less than cooperative. So I am out walking today and stop into two bike shops that are not far from my new place. One is Cyclemania on Bloor at Ossington. I walk up to the doorway and the tall Russian dude with the earring is attentive and friendly. I ask him how much for a tune-up, and how long will it take. $25 and same day or next day, depending on the time. Great.

I pass another place on the north side of College, between Ossington and Dovercourt, and I wish I could remember the name of it so I could tell you not to go there in no uncertain terms, but I don't remember. The bike dude working there is explaining to another guy about some custom bike he could build him, in painstaking detail, black rims or silver, what type of spokes, the blahblahblah parts in a wholly unfamiliar lexicon. He's seen me standing there, but apparently thinks I'd like to watch while he builds this bike over the course of the next several weeks...

He finally manages to toss a condescending "Hi" over his shoulder and continues to blather with his obviously-more-bike-savvy (male) customer. At that point I figure I should just leave, but I have a bad habit in life of sticking around situations longer than I ought to, just to see what happens next, usually at my own detriment. I'm calling it Narrative Addiction Syndrome (think it'll catch on?).

So I stay. Then another customer comes in and similarly hovers behind me. Ha. Finally Shaven Legged Bike Twerp has to acknowledge me.

"Do you have a question?" he asks wearily, since I'm obviously intruding on what he'd rather be doing. In life.

"Yeah. Do you do regular tune-ups here too?" I ask, as clearly the joint is an I-Have-A-Small-Cock custom shop.

"Yeah, sure we do," he says impatiently, as such gigs are clearly deeply beneath him.

"How much and how long does it generally take?"

Insert Existential Body-Heaving Sigh here.

"I can't answer that." He all but rolls his beady eyes. Clearly, I've asked an idiotic question. "It depends."

I laugh. Of course it does. Is he going to elaborate on this cryptic response?

"It depends on how busy I am, and on the weather."

The weather. I almost ask what sort of stars and pressure systems need to align in order for the rust to come off my bike chain, but I don't. He doesn't deserve it.

"Okay," I smile and leave.

Now I know how the story ends - with me taking my bike to the shop a little further away, with the handsome Russian man who can answer simple questions.

Alex, you were absolutely right - they DO give the gals attitude in that place!

Cheers.

Song for this post? HIGHWAY STAR - Deep Purple.