On Sunday morning it was so
hot that even though all of my windows were open it felt as if they were
closed. There was hardly any air moving at all.
There were a few things that I needed to buy that day,
like toilet paper, but as I was getting ready to go I remembered that my
bicycle was not functional because the lock nut had fallen off from my crank
arm. I decided to see if Home Hardware had the nut I was looking for, but first
of all I had to try to remove the nut that hadn’t fallen off. The problem was
that I couldn’t the change heads on the socket wrench that Nick Cushing had
given me. A website that I’d found said that is a common problem and they’d
offered various solutions like WD-40, soaking it in oil or the last resort of
prying it off with a screwdriver. Nick had also suggested that I try a
screwdriver. I was surprised when I tried that a screwdriver popped it off like
it was nothing. I found a 14 head and put it onto the wrench, and then I
removed the nut to take it to the hardware store. The prematurely white-haired
guy in charge, who I think owns the place with the shorter, moustached guy told
me he’d need my bike in order to see if he had what I needed, so I went home
and got it. After trying several nuts he concluded that he didn’t have one that
fit.
I decided to perhaps ride my bike with one pedal down to
Mojo Cycles at Sorauren to see if they had the nut I needed, but I noticed
there is a brand new bike shop right on my block. I went in and asked the owner
for a 14 locknut and he just happened to have a used one on his workbench. I’d
brought the ratchet with me and tightened it but it didn’t seem to tighten
fully so I asked if he would do it with one of his wrenches. He told me that
he’d have to charge me between $5 and $10 if he did it. I told him thanks
anyway. He said I didn’t have to pay for the nut though. He seemed like a nice
guy and an asshole at the same time.
My bike worked fine though as I rode to No Frills at King
and Jameson. I picked up some little Ontario grapes, some old cheese, a bottle
of olive oil, some balsamic salad dressing and some “Hot Hot Hot” Calypso
Sauce.
While I was shopping, a woman came up to me and said hi
as if she knew me. Since I looked puzzled she explained that our kids were once
in a therapy group together. I think this was when my daughter was six years
old, before she moved in with me. It was a weekly play therapy thing for the
children and while that was going on the parents were in another group. It
lasted for about a month or so but I didn’t notice that much came out of it and
I never thought there was anything wrong with my daughter in the first place
other than being a kid.
The woman, who told me her name was Kathleen, said that
her daughter was later diagnosed with autism.
Kathleen mentioned that I also might remember her because
she used to be the crossing guard on Dufferin.
I asked if she had been the dancing crossing guard that got fired a few
years ago and she confirmed that had been her. She got suspended and they said
she could have her job back if she promised to stop dancing, but she’d refused,
so she lost the job. She said she could dance anytime she wants now. I told her
that it always used to cheer me up when I was riding on Dufferin and saw her
dancing. It was stupid of them to fire her. A crossing guard is supposed to be
visible and she was obviously more so than most.
I was in line for one of the cashiers when she asked the
customer that was two people ahead of me how he was. He said he was fine and
then responded with the same question. She exclaimed sarcastically, “I am livin
the dream!”
I suddenly realized that I’d forgotten to get toilet
paper, so when I was next in line I packed my items back in my basket and left
the line-up. I felt a little stupid because as soon as I turned away I saw a
deal on toilet paper right in front of me. I could have just stayed in line and
stepped over to grab a pack without making anyone wait for me. By this time the
express cash had less of a line so I went over there. I couldn’t place the
accent of the express cashier. It didn’t sound European or Slavic. As I was
packing up my groceries, the tall guy that was now at the check-out said to the
cashier, “You’re wastin a great day! How about goin for a beer?” She smiled
politely and asked if he needed bags. After she’d handed him his receipt he
told her, “Last chance for that beer!”
He unlocked his bike not far from mine but he was done
before me and when I walked past him he was already chatting up another woman
that had just left the No Frills.
On the way home I wasn’t sure if my crank arm had been
fully tightened, but when I got there the ratchet wouldn’t go any further, so I
guessed it was fine. I decided though that on Monday evening I would take my
velo to Bike Pirates to get some advice. I wanted to find out if the lock nut
falling off had been just the result of riding hard without tightening the nut
from time to time or if the nut falling off had been part of a deeper problem.
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