My Good Old Bike is a Bit Broke…and Me.

DISCLAIMER: I am TOTALLY supposed to be writing something else…three something else’s right now…but I’ve had a day.

About 20 minutes ago, I stood at the counter of my neighbourhood bike shop, watching Mark the masked (good for you, sir) bike tech peruse my fifteen year old tank of a bike.
A bike that, you might remember if you’ve been following along, I bought with a large mason jar full of change during a time when I had less than no money.
She’s been running a bit rough this year and I started to have nightmares of her just collapsing underneath me as a worked like a dog to get up a hill.
No one wants that to happen.
Least of all, me.
So, as Mark very thoughtfully looked her over he pointed out two broken spokes on the back tire (when did THAT happen?), a minor problem with the front tire and when I mentioned that the chain was being bothersome, he measured it with a tool that seemed like it might moonlight charting maps, clicked his teeth and recommended a new chain.
I mentioned that my old bike had not been tuned up in a couple of years, and he said with older bikes, you gotta keep on top of that.
Then, like he was a brother or at the very least a distant family member, I said, “But she’s a good old bike, right? I don’t need to put her out to pasture yet, right?”

Mark looked philosophical for a moment…which is no mean feat with a mask…and said, “Have you heard the story of Jason of Jason and the Argonauts and his boat?”
“I cannot say I have…not that I can remember, anyhow.”
He ran his hand over the frame of my old bike and said, “Jason had to replace so many things on his boat during his adventures that he mused as to whether it was still the same boat at the end.”

We both stood silent, regarding my aged and imperfect set of wheels…and then he continued, “This frame with stay steady for almost ever, but everything else will have to be replaced over time. If you’re fine with that, then I say let’s fix her up.”

I could have cried.
Like…fully snot bawled…
…And not just because of the synchronicity that I just happened to be carrying a book about Greek Myths (as told through the gaze of women) in the canvas bag that was hanging over my shoulder…
…And not just because I was having a truly strange, tired, hormonal, and weepy couple of days for a myriad of reasons…
…but mostly because Mark the stranger was so thoughtful in his consideration of the old tank of a bike I’ve been carrying along with me through the last almost quarter of my life.

If only I could have this kind of consideration for myself during strange, tired, hormonal and weepy days.

He quoted me a price that would most assuredly buy me a new CANTIRE bike of some description…but would it have this bell, or those fenders, or that side basket (that migrated from the bike I owned BEFORE this one), or that tail light or this kickstand?
I’d spent a quarter of a lifetime making her safe and perfect.

“Do it. Fix her up. Maybe…maybe I will get a new bike next year.”

He smiled, I could tell by his eyes overtop of his mask.

“Or maybe this is just what she needs.”

She. Her.

God bless Mark.

With my book of Greek myths told from a female perspective nestled underneath a paper bag filled with three Craig’s Cookies that I’d bought to lighten my day in tow, I left my mighty steed behind for a bit of tender loving care.

And part of my “why does it seem like my life fucking too hard” day felt a bit less so.

What an extraordinary exchange.
What a perfect time to have it.

Grudging gratitude abounds.