Private Parts (of a bike)

What a gorgeous day! I had to waste a little bit of it to have an MRI done on my knee (finally, after 10 weeks), but at 10:30, I set out on my newly tuned bike.

Picking up where we left off in the fall, Calli and I hopped on our sleek beauties and pedaled south. The wind was coming from the south, and we figured it would be better to take a headwind while traveling down hill on the first half, than to hit it on the way back. Down to the lake we went.

We got to the Lindon Marina and most of the way down the beautiful new trail that starts from there, when Calli started to hear that tell-tale hiss from her front tire. It was a slow leak, so we left it until we were in a more convenient place to change a tire.

The actual tire change went well, until we had to remount the tire and we found that Calli's brakes and quick release system were all kinds of screwed up. We could get the wheel set, but then it would make sounds like a killer whale when it spun. That's not good.

I say "we", but I mean "me", as the whole time, Calli was mostly observing my labors. You see, Calli has a policy against touching the "private parts" of her bike. I guess it's a matter of privacy or something. Apparently her policy doesn't extend to me.

In the end, my wonderful husband had to come rescue us, as we had run out of time. (I was late to pick up Doug and her husband had to get to work.) We took the bike to the shop, where Wayne (the best bike mechanic in the state) laughed at Calli and told her to sign up for their maintenance 101 class. I guess that's where you learn about private parts.

I think it's like babies. When I had my first son, I was all kinds of nervous about diaper changes, as he had equipment that I didn't have. Soon, however, it was old hat and by the second boy, I could change a diaper, drive, and talk on the phone at the same time. Maybe with enough practice, Calli and I can get that good at fixing our bikes too.