Weight: 224.6
Delta M: -0.2
Mileage: 0
June Mileage: 245.2
Inclement weather trapped me down in the basement tonight with my latest project bike, the Critterpuller*. It’s an old Schwinn Cimarron that I’m trying to get back into rideable condition to haul son #1 around on his trail ‘a’ bike, and later a trailer I got to haul son #2. There are a lot of factors to consider in a bike that’s primary purpose in life will be the logistical and tactical deployment of my spawn. Not just any bike will do. First of all, it’s gotta be cheap, second, it’s gotta have some sort of tubing that will allow me to bolt the trailer and half bike thing to. After that we can worry about structural integrity and operational brakes and all that boring crap my wife and mother will no doubt pester me with until the whole project implodes in some self fulfilled doomsday fantasy of theirs. Whatever, that’s what helmets are for.
Actually the bike is in pretty good condition. The guy who gave it to me said it was one of the last bikes Schwinn made in Chicago, his dad was a welder for them, and that’s how he got it. What isn’t serviceable I should be able to replace with some miscellaneous parts I’ve accumulated trying to maintain my old fixed gear. All I really need now is some new tubes, and maybe some wheels, which I think I got some somewhere, I just have to check some of the piles. I may need to replace some of the cabling and hopefully I can get it to shift OK, otherwise I’ll just single speed it.
It will look like the frankenbike from hell by the time I’m done with it, but son #1 and I will be grinning fools all the way up to the comic book store .
*About 20 minutes after my wife broke the news of Son#2’s imminent arrival last Fathers Day, I took to calling him Critter. Every time my wife so much as hiccoughed, me and Son#1 would be all “Are you OK, how is the Critter?” My mom was really proud. The name stuck. You should just see the beaming joy that radiates from her face every time we refer to her grandson as Critter.
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I had just sat through a hideous board meeting and was riding home burning off the annoyance when I did the a-hole maneuver of catching and passing a couple. (Mind you, I firmly believe I should not be able to catch anyone equipped with Record and Chorus, but whatever). Several miles later they caught up to me at a long light, I'd cooled off, and we rode the rest of the way back together. The question for me?
"What's that hanging off of your chainstay?"
That would be the trailer hitch for hauling my girl monster around.
Anyway, ride fast, take chances.
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