After church, I installed both derailleurs and adjusted them the best I could. After installing the shifters, to my surprise I found that the bicycle actually runs through the gears pretty smoothly. Of course, to check the shifting you have to work the pedals, and I also found that those pedals are not comfortable when your feet are clad only in socks.
The chainrings and front derailleur, before I installed the chain.Finally it was time for the first official ride. Of course, I was too excited to take precautions, so I headed out on a fully untested bicycle without my helmet. I did remember to put shoes on.
The shakedown ride was a moment of realization for me: A bicycle is a time machine. I was instantly transported back to my childhood, flying around the neighborhoods of Bremerton with my friends.
I stopped to track down a steady ticking noise (turned out to be a sticker coming loose from the side of the rear tire... easily fixed) and realized that I'd just covered two of the routes I often use when I go running, but in about one-tenth of the time. Ah, the power!
The cranks and the shifters both need some fine adjustment. I may eventually replace the handlebar foam and the brake hoods, but THE BICYCLE LIVES, BABY!
It's been a lot of effort getting it to this point, but not one moment of it felt like work. Even when I was up to my elbows in grease, trying to hold the loose parts of the transmission together and in place with one hand while threading a cable through them with the other, I felt connected to something very fundamental. I don't mean that in a "cosmic spirit quest" sort of way. There's just something satisfying about working with my hands, and being able to see (and ride) the results of what I've done. Something tells me this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.
The shakedown ride was a moment of realization for me: A bicycle is a time machine. I was instantly transported back to my childhood, flying around the neighborhoods of Bremerton with my friends.
I stopped to track down a steady ticking noise (turned out to be a sticker coming loose from the side of the rear tire... easily fixed) and realized that I'd just covered two of the routes I often use when I go running, but in about one-tenth of the time. Ah, the power!
The cranks and the shifters both need some fine adjustment. I may eventually replace the handlebar foam and the brake hoods, but THE BICYCLE LIVES, BABY!
It's been a lot of effort getting it to this point, but not one moment of it felt like work. Even when I was up to my elbows in grease, trying to hold the loose parts of the transmission together and in place with one hand while threading a cable through them with the other, I felt connected to something very fundamental. I don't mean that in a "cosmic spirit quest" sort of way. There's just something satisfying about working with my hands, and being able to see (and ride) the results of what I've done. Something tells me this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.
[1] "Huperoffspringity" is the ultimate politically correct term for us collection of homo sapiens. See, you start with mankind, but that has the word "man" in it. So then try "humanity", but same problem. So let's just replace the offending part of the word. "Man" could be replaced with "person", right? So then we've got hupersonity. Oh, but wait. That still has the word "son" in it. The more gender neutral term for son would be "offspring". So make the final substitution: Huperoffspringity. There. Everyone happy?
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