The Bike Way

This weekend I took my bike in to a nearby bike store to have it fixed. About 3 steps into the store I realized what a mistake I had made taking the bike there myself. It was packed in there and I was, oh yes, the only female in sight. The entire room was covered in testosterone driven signs that said things like, "ENDURANCE", "ACCELERATION", and "PERFORMANCE". Not only that, but I had just unloaded my bike not off of a bike rack, but by sliding in out of the back of my wagon/SUV cross vehicle. I also don't think my bike is very good - it's a K2 Derek won 6 years ago when he was working for Ford. Shortly after we got the bike he received his yearly bonus of, no joke, $56 (the next year it tripled to just over $150- cha-chang baby, don't spend it all in one place). But I proceed back to the counter to have it looked at.

What was my repair, you ask? The anchor for my baby seat on the back of the bike wasn't working and I needed a new screw or the hole fixed or something.

A guy, whose name I'm certain was Butch, went to work on my bike. I could tell Butch was one of the more senior employees the store had. He was probably, at least, 26 and even had a slight recession going on in his shaved hair, but it was hard to notice it too much because I was admiring his impressing collection of earrings and chains. He had one of those plastic rings in his ear that made the hole really big and then had a silver hoop though it. Very cool. Then another baby faced employee came out to help and I realized that no one over the age of, well, Butch, was allowed to work there.

And here I was, wondering how I got to be so OLD, wondering exactly why I wanted a baby seat on the back of my bike, and realizing that these boys weren't looking at me like an athletic, cool mom who wants to ride with my boys, but instead as a mini-van driving, suburban soccer mom who can't figure out the baby seat on the back of my crappy bike.

The only saving grace was that Butch was even having a hard time with the anchor and took him a good 20 minutes to sort it out. The entire time, I'm waiting there, feeling very intimidated, trying not to look as uncool as I felt, with an intense desire to go pierce...something. When it was finally done Butch didn't even charge me. I don't know if it was sympathy at my dorkiness or embarrassment that he, too, couldn't figure out the baby seat, but I threw some cash in the tip jar and quickly took my bike back to my mom-mobile. Oh well, at least now I can ride with my boys, even if I am a dork.