Journal of a mature, non-Olympic woman in the process of converting to cycling as a method of daily transportation. Dealing with weather and assorted perils; exploring equipment, psychological fortitude, and diet; experiencing our surroundings on a smaller, closer scale; saving gas & boycotting the car industry.
Since returning from Mexico I’ve called twice about the promised bike rack. (scroll down and see "Rackless Endangerment" below) with no results. I’ve left messages, but – nice man no call back. Am I to conclude that he is one of those people who effuse promises and don’t follow through?
The aforementioned bike is still there, sagging more with each passing day, hanging there from my stolen pipe on the telephone pole, dying slowly of drowning, rusting away while simultaneously parched from a lack of oil.
The very picture of pathos. It’s cruel.
The whole thing is too disturbing. What can I do to end the misery for all concerned? I’m thinking.
I just had an idea!! I should get the number off it and check with the police to see if it’s a stolen bike! Maybe that’s why the owner doesn’t care about it – it wasn’t really theirs in the first place. If it's stolen, I can get the police to come take it away and restore it to its rightful owner.