And so it begins

Those of you that have talked to me recently know that I've been overhauling an old bicycle. In one of my frequent flashes of brilliance, I've decided to keep a blog of the experience. You may be asking yourself questions at this point. Why would Abel want to keep such a blog? Why should I read it? And how often will Abel sully this blog by writing about himself in the third person?

The answers, in no particular order:

• Because you love me, and/or think I'm so cool that even such a loose connection to me brightens your day and boosts your self esteem.
• It seemed like a good idea at the time.
• Hopefully not too often, although already once too many.

OK, here's the situation. (And if you have a song stuck in your head right now, I'll predict your year of birth accurate to within five years.) I'd been talking about wanting to get a bicycle again, just an old road bicycle to ride around town on. I had a ten-speed when I was a kid, and lately I've been missing it. One day one of my co-workers calls me into her office and gives me her road bicycle.

"Abel," she said, "this thing's been sitting under my house for ten years. I want you to have it. Be good to it, and it will always bring you home." Or something along those lines. I was a bit emotional at the prospect of my new wheels, so my memory of the moment may have spliced in some footage from a western or two.

I tossed it in the back of my Subaru (aka J.C. Supercar) and took it home. After riding it around the block a few times, I thought "It would be really fun to take this all apart, clean it up, and put it back together." This seemed like a good idea despite my complete lack of knowledge or experience in such matters. Or maybe because of it.

The bicycle as delivered from Greta

The bicycle is an early 1980's Nishiki Rivera. There's not a whole lot out there on Nishiki, but it seems like a decent bike to my untrained eyes. In the next post: I decide that if I'm going to overhaul this bicycle, I might as well do it right.