i'mnotmeanttobeabiker

so i know you've been on the edge of your seats wondering how i've been making out with my new bike.  i wish i could tell you it's gone well.  the truth is: I STILL DON'T HAVE A BIKE AND I THINK IT'S A SIGN I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO GET ONE BUT I'M TOO STUBBORN SO I ORDERED A NEW ONE INSTEAD.

it started out so well.  the bike arrived, i picked it up in parts, told the workers i did not need assistance putting it together (the ultimate mistake in this entire story), and brought it home, all 40 lbs. of it in the form of a massive box.

there she was, in her vintage, broken down glory.  i was excited to get to work.  sarah came over and helped me begin the process.  we had some thai food and felt really good about ourselves at the beginning of it all.  enter sarah:

working away in my apartment, bringing to life my dreams of being a (SAFE) city biker.  and then we hit our first speed bump (pun 100% intended...i hope you knew it was a pun or else this side bar is really unnecessary).

I WAS GIVEN TWO RIGHT FOOT PEDALS.  YOU WOULD HAVE TO HAVE A COMPLETELY TURNED IN LEFT FOOT FOR THIS TO WORK.

my stomach began to knot and i began to flap my arms around wildly, knocking thai food all over my rug.  i was essentially screaming in a high pitched voice, "SARAH! SARAH! NOOO!!! SARAHHHHHH!!!!!! I DON'T HAVE CLUBBED FEET I CAN'T MAKE THIS WORK WHY DON'T I HAVE CLUBBED FEET I WISH I HAD CLUBBED FEET I HATE BIKES I HATE BIKES!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  sarah might have a different recall of the event.

so i got over it and took a deep breath.  we began to work on other parts of the bike, thinking maybe i just needed to replace the pedal, no big deal.  until i hit POT HOLE number 2:

upside down handlebars.  are you kidding me.  so now not only would i need clubbed feet, but i would need inspector gadget arms to ride this bike.  mother. of. GOD.

you may see sarah in the top left corner of this picture holding her stomach: that's because we were laughing so hard we couldn't breathe....but also i was secretly crying.  i did my best to accept the fact that this was not going to happen that night.  sarah had to leave for her night-shift as a nurse at CHOP and said she would come back at 7am, lend me her car so i could take it back to the store and get a new bike (good friend she is).

so saturday morning rolled around.  i woke up feeling ready to make the most of the day and had visions of spending my saturday biking around the city in the beauteous fall weather.  sarah pulled up to my apartment and i frantically gathered my stuff because i did not want her to wait outside for too long after working a 12 hour overnight shift.  in my frenzy, i locked. myself. out. of. my. gd. apartment.  bike still inside.  keys definitely still inside.  it still hurts to go back to this moment.  you have to understand that i never lock myself out - it is a point of pride.  i have a system to ensure i have all of my belongings before i exit my apartment.

and so. i was locked out.  i called annie (sister) who lives a few blocks away, has a spare set, and is typically up by 6am.  no answer.  so proud of her for finally sleeping in, but wow, what a day to exercise that skill.

the morning looked like this:

that's me in sarah's car watching the sun rise (i had driven her back to her apartment so she could sleep while i figured out my key dilemma).  somewhere around 9:30am, i decided to do the terrible: call my brother and ask him to drive me down a spare set from the suburbs.  he was there within 21 minutes.  little brothers rock.

i thanked him profusely, he helped me get the bike into the car, and i was on my way.  i got to the store, and it took a solid hour for them to inform me that there was no replacement bike in the store, i'd have to get back online and re-order the bike, and no, there was nothing more they could do for me.  with my rejected refund in hand, i headed home.

i re-ordered the bike.

and i am now patiently waiting for it to arrive, at which point they WILL put it together for me before i walk out.

really (really) long story short: i don't think i'm meant to be a biker.

thanks for listening,
a wanna-be double-right footed, go-go gadget armed biker