Cream On My Face

            I spent most of Monday trying to get caught up in my journal, but in the late morning my phone rang. I normally just check out the call display and if the area code is other than 416, 904 or 647 or “private number” I tend to just ignore the call because it’s probably a bill collector. This time though, while picking up the phone I accidentally answered the call. A woman’s voice was inquiring as to whether I was Christian. I asked, “Who’s this?” and she started explaining that she was calling from Switzerland and that she was conducting a survey about skin. I asked how long it would take and she said three minutes. I was intrigued at the idea of getting a call from Switzerland so I went along with it, though of course it took more like ten minutes than three. She sounded like she was the kind of Swiss that speaks either Italian or French as a first language. She was very friendly while asking me the official questions and added little compliments along the way. She told me she assumed that I was quite young and acted surprised when I said I was 62. The questions were about what I do for my skin, which is nothing besides washing my face and applying the creams that I use for psoriasis on my elbows and knees. She asked if I used shaving cream. She inquired as to whether I’d ever been to Switzerland. I answered that I had. She wanted to know what I’d thought of her country. I explained that I’d only had breakfast there while hitchhiking through.

            It turned out of course that this was not a survey at all but rather a sales pitch for a miraculous Swiss skin cream that would cost me $120. I told her she was barking up the wrong tree. She wondered why and got a little more aggressive and only ended it all after I stated that besides not wanting the product I was extremely poor. She thanked me for my time and ended the call.

In the late afternoon I needed to take a break from writing to tune up my velo at Bike Pirates. My headset had been wobbling, my brakes sticking and I was hearing the chain linger between the lower gears. I went over there at about fifteen minutes before they opened and at the same time a few other cyclists were converging in front of the door. I picked up my pace and passed two cyclists that were walking their bikes in that direction and managed to be the third one there. The guy ahead of me was praising the $1 meal at the St Francis Table down the street and saying they treat you like a king there.

            When Dennis opened up I had expected him to let the first three go to the stands but he told me and everyone behind me to take a seat because he couldn’t handle helping more than two people. I noticed there were already some volunteers inside working on their bikes. After about two minutes though he called for me and first guy after me.

            My brake problem got dealt with fairly quickly as I was told that it was just a matter of me having wrapped my locking cable too tightly around my crossbar.

            The volunteers that I spoke to didn’t think that I had a dilemma with my gears either, since they moved smoothly up and down. I was told that the noise was only a result of not moving the shifter far enough forward or backward.

            I did have a legitimate issue though with my headset and so I spent the next two hours working on that. I had to remove the locknut and the spacers, plus the part that fits onto the headset on my bike in order to guide the front brake cable, so I could tighten the top race. But I had to balance tightening that with the part on top of it because if it was too tight then the headset wouldn’t turn the front wheel smoothly and if it was too loose there would be too much play. I think that did the trick but I had somehow mistakenly removed the stem and the wedge that connect the handlebars to the steering system. My volunteer though noticed that the wedge was stripped and so he got me another one. My headset got firmed up fine and then I had to reconnect the front brakes, which took a bit of time but it came together. My brake cable was getting pretty frayed at the end though, so next time I’ll probably have to replace it. Since I was already there we decided to tune up the back brakes as well, since the lever had way too much give. I also adjusted my seat since it had been slightly turned off balance for the last month or so.

            Den was there and when I overheard him mention that he was going to a meeting that was going to decide whether to continue or end the Bloor bike lane, I called out that they should end it. He strongly disagreed, saying that if they kill it he’s going to lie down on it and die. I complained that it’s too narrow and impossible to pass other cyclists without going out into the middle of the road. He argued that I should patiently wait for an intersection. But if there’s a line of cyclists dragging along the path then it’s still not possible to get ahead at an intersection. He countered that I don’t need to drive that fast and he doesn’t do it anymore because when one gets doored while going at top speed one gets tossed across the street. He declared that he’s too old to get knocked around like that anymore.

I’d spent almost exactly two hours at Bike Pirates this time. I had two $5s and some change but I wanted to buy coffee the next day so I only donated $5 this time.