June 07, 2006

My bike disintegrated somewhere in Toronto, the real derailleur snapping apart like the clamped shell of some edible sea animal. The snapping was accompanied by a loud rattling of chains, and soon afterwards I covered myself in oil grease from head to toe just to make sure that the situation was hopeless.

So last week I took my broken bike back to Canadian Tire (all of my bikes come from there — you’d figure I’d learn).

“How did this happen?” asked the bicycle man.

“I used my amazingly powerful legs to explore mind-blowing velocities.”

“I’m not sure if this is covered by warranty. I’ll have to check.”

That was code for “we’re going to take three weeks to look into the issue and then decide that we can’t to anything about it,” but I left the bike behind anyways. And now I’ve been lonesome and bikeless for too long.

The worst part about not having a bike is that I won’t be able to partake in the Work Naked Bike Ride this Saturday. I’ve been looking forward to getting naked and riding my bike for the last six months. But all is not lost — maybe you can all get naked in my stead and go ride your bikes in Toronto this weekend … it’s all for a good cause.