A series of…events

It is not farfetched to suspect that the author of my life events is not me, but rather an imaginative, energetic seven-year-old with a vivid imagination and poor impulse control. This child is seemingly obsessed with bicycles and wild animals.

If I may?
It’s been a minute since I diarized any thoughts on paper/screen that were not medical, perfunctory for the sake of politeness, or legal opinions.

My beloved Rutabaga, my enduro bike, has been making a knocking sound, and it only occurs on the climbs.
I tightened everything to no avail, and a couple weeks ago, the rhythmic knocking that accompanied my entire 1.5 hour climb just about drove me mad. So I stopped by the mechanic friend’s house to see if he could troubleshoot.
After many laps up the hill in front of his house, with swap outs of chain ring, cranks, pedals, and eventually, the entire crankset, the knock persisted. The only thing we haven’t tried swapping out is the bottom bracket, but the bearings feel smooth, and there is no play. I’ve had my BB go on me before, and it’s more of a bat clicking for echolocation sound, rather than a knocking.
So for now, I’m just living with it, going mildly insane, because my hubs are silent, and my pedaling is not. Any bike mechanic wisdom is very welcome in this regard.

In searching for the source of the knock, we also discovered a rather significant paint chip in the swingarm, sparing any damage to the carbon beneath. I wrote the company to see if it fell under warranty, and ultimately, after many emails with a stranger, I have withdrawn my warranty request, slapped some hot pink nail polish on it, and put on a little sticker to hide the horror. My heart hurts a little with this, but my daughter’s nail polish is sparkly, bringing joy to an otherwise decidedly unsparkly situation. I will not post a photo of this, because no one needs to remember these sorts of things visually.

Instead, these are my progeny and one of my best friends on Canadian Thanskgiving weekend, making our way to a pumpkin patch because I couldn’t be bothered to wait (and pay) for a wagon ride over there. We came home with three small pumpkins, dirty feet, and a general love of where we live.

Which, lately, has been plagued by cougars and bears (oh my)!

A lovely, mildly demented, gentleman from my church has now been missing three days. He was last seen walking his dog near the trails in a local neighbourhood, where a mere week before, a cougar was spotted exhibiting stalking behaviour, leaving only after the woman being stalked threw rocks at it. Search and Rescue teams from all over the province have arrived to help in the search, and the community is making a good go of it too. So far, nothing. I’ve been hesitant to participate for fear of a potentially grisly discovery.

Meanwhile, my children have been sequestered indoors for recess for the past two days because a grizzly has been spotted intermittently on the school field. Today, they were allowed outdoors in restricted areas, with a Conservation Officer standing by. I think this decision-making is all very strange, but I will say nothing, because it’s a bit of a privilege to live in a place like this, and to be honest, I think my children will be fine, and unlikely to be attacked by a grizzly, even though just last week, a couple and their dog were killed by one in a neighbouring province.

Also, I have a confession to make.
While attempting to figure out the knocking, said bicycle friend casually began a conversation with, “Because I rather enjoy seeing friends spend a lot of money…”

Our little ski town, every October, has a big sale on ski gear. Some bike companies will also try to offload their summer wares, so basically, you can purchase all your summer and winter gear/toys over one weekend in October. There were two days in particular, where for five hours of each of those days, a local bike manufacturer had a ridiculous sale. He suggested I visit the next morning, and oh, you should know that one of their hard tails is going for a screaming deal.

I’d looked at this frame a few years ago, but didn’t commit and ultimately ended up buying a short travel cross country bike for the BC Bike Race.

Well, what do you know? After I find my favourite knee pads for 70% off (yup, I bought a backup pair), find some bike pants for me, and a ton of cool clothes for my son for cheap, I wander outside to see the frames they’re selling. I am then there for another hour, discussing sizing and geometry, and somehow, I legitimately don’t know how, I walk out of there having purchased this beauty.

It’s a steel (chromoly – chromium and molybdenum) hard tail, 29″ wheels, 160 mm front suspension, aggressive enough that it theoretically should be able to tackle everything I’m riding on a full suspension, but will hopefully force me to be a better rider in line choice and precision because I won’t have the forgiveness of a rear suspension.

I bought the full build, and debated buying just a frame, but talked myself out of it, because in the end, that would end up costing considerably more. It was about 40% off, and in this town, if you know this manufacturer, their bikes just don’t go on sale like this. Ever.

If you ever need to define “enabling”, this is it:

Yes. I impulse bought a bike. And I don’t even feel bad.

I got the call this afternoon that it’s been built, so I’ll aim to swing by and pick it up next week. I’m planning on putting a tire insert in the back, upgrading the brakes, and maybe adding a teensy bit of colour via pedals and bottle cage. Maybe some colourful rotor bolts. I’ll move the current brakes to my husband’s commuter bike, and ta da! Life is grand. Even then it’ll be cheaper than its original price.

There was about two hours’ deliberation about whether I ought to sneak it in the garage vs telling my husband I actually did this, and in the end, all my guilty glances had him believing I’d gone and signed a lease for a pickup truck and bought a dirtbike (I have had some obsessive thoughts about things lately), so a wee measly little bicycle was actually a relief for him. My daughter’s response? An eyeroll and a “Mo-om, you definitely need to sell some bikes. You have WAY too many.”

N PLUS ONE DAMMIT.

Only dilemma now is trying to decide what trail should be the inaugural ride.
That, and ensuring nobody dies from cougars or grizzlies.

This child author is terrible at writing endings.