Remember back when I tried sledding this winter? It was a huge debacle,
right? I mean, I can admit that. It was a complete and utter joke.
Well, I had me another adventure. That’s right, Captain Catastrophe
rides again. And this time I’m bleeding.
After work today, I got home and thought, “Hey, what a nice day. I think
I’ll take that new bike I bought at Wal-Mart for a spin.”
What is wrong with me? Don’t I ever learn?
It’s a nice bike, actually. I guess they call them there things a
mountain bike, which I guess was actually a fairly stupid purchase come
to think of it. I’ve been all over the state of Wisconsin and I haven’t
spied a single mountain in all those travels. From the wilds of
Marshfield, to the depths of the Wisconsin Dells, to the land of lakes
and landfills called Muskego, I’ve yet to spy me a mountain. Or even a
decent hill. Had I seen a good sized hill, believe me, I would have
tubed down it.
So I look over the bike. Looks all right. But I heard the stories of
these preassembled Wal-Mart bikes and took no chances. My brother used
to work at K-Mart. And he used to assemble bikes and such. I remember
him telling me, they don’t really tighten those nuts and bolts too
hard–in case, they ever need to take it apart. And should an extra piece
suggest itself, if a place couldn’t be found for it and the creation
somewhat resembled the physical object being assembled (in this case a
bike), well, that was figured for an spare part. My brother actually
became quite adept at building a Big Wheel, which is funny since the
Suzuki X90 he drove up unto recently looked very similar except it was a
tad more expensive and had a rougher ride.
I digress.
So I kind of tighten a few things, but truth be told, I don’t know a
darn thing about bikes so I’m not sure if I really did anything at all.
I filled up the tires to a nice 55 psi and hoped on this little red
rocket.
This is the first time I ve driven a modern mountain bike. My last bike
was a zero speed with coaster brakes and before that I had a “racing
bike” Schwinn with those tires so thin that you actually expected it to
be used as a blade to cut into the sidewalk more than provide a smooth
ride.
Ah, those were the days.
It had those Shimano shifty things. It took a while for me to find a
gear I liked. I call this gear, “Super Lazy” gear and took an immediate
shine to it. I decided to take it up a fairly decent sized hill. That
actually wasn’t bad. I took Greenfield Avenue over to State Fair Park
and slowly noticed the bike was becoming more difficult to pedal. Now,
knowing that I am not exactly in tip-top physical condition, I figured
I’m old and just kept on a pedaling thinking to myself the mantra: “Push
through the pain.”
The actual pain was drawing up in the, er, caboose section, though. My
old Grandpa bike had an extra fat, super padded seat. This new bike had
a saddle so darn uncomfortable I often stood up in my seat and checked I
wasn’t sitting exactly on a pipe. Had I enjoyed this at any moment I
would have quickly through down the bike, slid into one of the fifty
bars between 70th and 84th on Greenfield and started talking about that
amazing season the Brewers are off to.
2 and 0. They are so going to the World Series.
Anyway, I finally roll up on State Fair Park and the pedaling is pretty
tough already. I check and it appears one of the back brakes is pushing
up against the rear tire. The tire is out of alignment. “Push through
the pain,” think I and on I go.
Then, I get even stupider. If you can imagine that.
I figure, “Hey, these mountain bikes are for offroading…”
You can see it coming, right?
“Maybe I should try some tricks.” So I decide to bike down a few steps
(standing on the pedals and off that torturous saddle, of course) and
that goes okay. Then I go up a little dirt hill. That goes okay. Then I
see a curb.
When I was a kid, I’d pull on those front handle bars, pop the front
tire up off the ground, and power up a curb like that.
As an adult, I pull on the handle bars, the front tire doesn’t budge and
I go full ahead into the curb. Then I fall down, hands first to the
pavement and find myself pinned under the bike.
Anyone want to ask me again why I don’t exercise more?
There I am in pain, but thankfully not badly injured. You know. Yet.
I brush myself off, quite shook from the play, and pick up the reflector
that popped off the front of the bike in the incident. I put the
reflector in my pocket and swing my leg over to remount the bike.
Broken reflector in pants pocket.
See that has sharp edges, see? It kind of cut into the outside of my
upper thigh. Now I was a hurting.
I start pedaling and now it’s pushing back harder than me on the table
with a dish full of vegetables in front of me. The wheel, has now,
effectively not only leaned into the brake pad, but the very frame of
the bike.
A number of very well chosen and classy vulgarities were now escaping my
lips.
I think it was time to go home. I pedaling away in agony and my pants
slowly accumulating a blood deposit of sorts in the general area of my
groin. I was starting to appear as if I was having an unfresh moment
here, which is crazy since I’m usually much later in the month.
Now, I went nearly thirty feet, when I’m get to the Walgreen’s on the
corner (aren’t they on every corner now?) of 84th and Greenfield. And
the sidewalk is closed for construction. I’m slowly beginning to suspect
someone is playing a trick on me.
I power past that nasty bit and see some nice aqua green 24 pipe next
to the road (mental note: ask Leif what type of pipe gets the aqua green
coating) and I start wondering if the Gas guys are having a project here
I don t know about. Because believe me, if they were going to do some
work this close to my house, I would have insisted on a field visit. I
could have biked over wearing my We Energies hard hat instead of my bike
helmet that says “Speed Racer–Beep! Beep!” on the side of it. Sure, the
usual purple and green helmet drives the lady folk crazy and they get
all excited by it, but the hard hat might actually HELP if I were in an
accident. The Speed Racer helmet was, in fact, styrofoam.
That’s when this car, that apparently was a lawn mower last week by the
smell of its emissions, decides to pace me along National. Now, you
know, I don’t bike to exercise. I actually wanted a little clean, fresh
air. Now, even that was being deprived of me. (In fact, I just stepped
out of the shower and I still smell gasoline on me.) And the bike is
getting harder and harder to pedal. I actually start to get off and walk
it a block or two.
A good sized hill comes up and once I crest it I figure, “I’ll just hop
back on the bike, coast home and get this over with.” Well, I actually
had to pedal DOWN the hill and it nearly came to a stop before getting
to the bottom. By the time I was home, I was holding the back wheel off
the ground as I walked the bike. I actually was PUSHING the darn thing.
I’m home now and generally alive, though only slightly. The moral of
this story is the same I always have. Exercise can be hazardous to your
health and should only be attempted by professionals.
I’m going to polish off those Girl Scout cookies tonight. Hah!
Tim Kretschmann
Captain Catastrophe