On Thu, 20 Dec 2012 01:29:57 -0500, Joy Beeson
<jbe...@invalid.net.invalid> wrote:
> . . . so
> I went in and bought the only women's saddle they had.
When I was in grade school, my younger sister and I slept on
army-surplus bunk beds that came with thin felt pads instead of
mattresses.
I slept in the upper bunk, and was in the habit of running across the
room, planting a foot on my sister's bunk, and vaulting into my bed.
About the time I got good at it, Mom bought real mattresses for the
bunks. That night I planted a foot on my sister's bed, jumped, and
bounced off the side of the mattress.
I was reminded of that today, when I took my first real ride with the
new slightly-thicker saddle and had to grab my ankle with my hand to
get my foot over.
I've been muttering that it's about time to get a mixte for at least
ten years, but I still don't think it's quite time yet. Particularly
since mixtes are no longer around --they've been gone so long that
people are starting to use the term for drop frames-- and I'd have to
get a mountain bike or a comfort bike.
When I had the saddle almost adjusted, I got fed up with trying to
tighten the clamp on my front shifter cable and decided that the bike
was overdue for a set of new cables and an overhaul.
While riding the bike to the Trailhouse, I found that the nose of the
saddle definitely had to come up another half degree. While riding it
home yesterday -- nope it didn't.
On the way to the grocery store today, I discovered yes, it *does*
need to come up a bit more.
On the way back, I remembered that the overhaul had happened because I
never use my big ring these days, and I'd better shift up and back
again once every ride to keep the cable loose in the housing. Snap!
and the cable is loose again. Detoured past Trailhouse: surprise,
they are open today. (Turned out that the winter hours are Wednesday
through Saturday, not Thursday through Saturday as predicted.)
After putting the groceries away, I rode back. He confidently
selected a wrench and a cable-grabber -- fiddled a while, discovered
that the bolt was broken. Aha! All is explained, and I see why
"the boys" missed it.
Seemed like a very long time to get the broken bolt out, but then I
was dressed for 8F, and it wasn't until I had trouble holding the end
of the cable out of the way that I thought of taking off my gloves and
mittens. My wool jersey, alas, is a pullover. Then a prolonged
search for a short bolt; he ended up using a file on a long one. Even
though the defective part was mine, he waived a fee for all that labor
-- getting a broken bolt out isn't *easy*.
I shifted several times before leaving the parking lot!
But I still have to retrieve the socket set and make that final tweak
on the saddle. I'm going to hate spending fifteen minutes suiting up
just to ride around the block.