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.
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