Karsten Olson (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} crunchochango) wrote,@ 2007-07-06 09:57:00 |
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Budget snippet, part II
Much of my day as a bike mechanic, unsurprisingly, is spent fixing customers' bicycles. The process begins when the customer brings in the bicycle and states his/her perceived problem; "Mah WHirlyGIG make-a-da swooshy bing-bang noise!" It is then my job to figure out what they would have said if they had had the use of all of their faculties and a fifth grade vocabulary: "Excuse me sir, but my bicycle does not shift properly in the rear gears." I then do my best to help them out of my store/life as quickly as possible, and get onto the problem at hand. The actual repair itself can take anywhere from 2 minutes to 2 hours depending on how much jesus hates me on that particular day. Once the problem is finally solved, I get to begin my favorite part of the process, the (often gratuitous) test-ride. This is really just a thinly veiled excuse to tool around the neighborhood on ridiculous bicycles, be they the two foot high bicycle of a four year old, or the dork-mobile of a six foot five man with a fanny pack.
Yesterday I rolled out of the shop on one of the latter, and was feeling good; the repair was done, the day was winding down, and the wind was gently blowing across my face. Suddenly the long blast of a horn from a passing car cut into my reverie, which was further destroyed by someone screaming "YOU FUCKING HOMO!!," presumably at me. I turned around just in time to see Jesse leaning out of the passenger side window, while his wife Erin drove and their 3 month old baby sat in the back, before they roared off into the distance. I took brief moment in between giggles (see last entry) to reflect on how much better life is when all of your friends are just as crazy, loud and obnoxious as you are.
Much of my day as a bike mechanic, unsurprisingly, is spent fixing customers' bicycles. The process begins when the customer brings in the bicycle and states his/her perceived problem; "Mah WHirlyGIG make-a-da swooshy bing-bang noise!" It is then my job to figure out what they would have said if they had had the use of all of their faculties and a fifth grade vocabulary: "Excuse me sir, but my bicycle does not shift properly in the rear gears." I then do my best to help them out of my store/life as quickly as possible, and get onto the problem at hand. The actual repair itself can take anywhere from 2 minutes to 2 hours depending on how much jesus hates me on that particular day. Once the problem is finally solved, I get to begin my favorite part of the process, the (often gratuitous) test-ride. This is really just a thinly veiled excuse to tool around the neighborhood on ridiculous bicycles, be they the two foot high bicycle of a four year old, or the dork-mobile of a six foot five man with a fanny pack.
Yesterday I rolled out of the shop on one of the latter, and was feeling good; the repair was done, the day was winding down, and the wind was gently blowing across my face. Suddenly the long blast of a horn from a passing car cut into my reverie, which was further destroyed by someone screaming "YOU FUCKING HOMO!!," presumably at me. I turned around just in time to see Jesse leaning out of the passenger side window, while his wife Erin drove and their 3 month old baby sat in the back, before they roared off into the distance. I took brief moment in between giggles (see last entry) to reflect on how much better life is when all of your friends are just as crazy, loud and obnoxious as you are.
