Not a Fugazi reference, although I like that album too. I tend to fall on the side of depressingly pessimistic in regards to most aspects of life...but when good/fun things happen, I sometimes retrace my steps, do all the same things, consciously reliving moments, in hopes of repeating the fun.
That almost makes me sound like an optimist. Scary.
It did make me wind my way over to Cambridge Bikes again yesterday, on the way home. Okay, I had a few excuses - I was buying something off JT and wanted to make sure that he got my cash money and that said items were still available. I also finally turned in my legal note; my official excuse to socialize and hang out for half an hour.
But while the ride there - minus throwing my chain this time - was the same, I walked into a shop that looked very different:
It was apparently Zack's idea, and I love how it opens up the shop. When you stand by the cash register, the track specific section in the back is clearly visible. This means that its magnetic pull on those obsessed with pretty anodized track components [read: me] is even stronger. I think I dumped my bike by the cash register, turned, saw the track section, and [probably rudely ignoring "what's up?"s and "hey how are you?"s] made a beeline for it.
A sparkling new 44cm Bianchi San Jose sitting pretty in front of the display also snatched up my attention. This is what my bike used to look like! Freewheel, flat plastic pedals, black bar tape...it makes me happy that someone [equally short] in Boston might buy this beauty. Seriously, she's worth every penny you'll sink into her - and so shiny too!
A pink Bareknuckle frame hanging from the ceiling had me craning my neck with my mouth hanging open in envy [before the Dolan, I desperately wanted a Bareknuckle...until I found out that unless I wanted to be riding on the top tube, there would be no way I could fit on one]. While my head was stuck in that slightly uncomfortable position, I managed to check out things displayed at higher altitudes. And found the hottest pair of arm warmers:
Like a kid in a candy store, I was so overwhelmed by everything bike that I totally forgot about how exhausted I was. I shot up the hills on the ride home, buried in my drops, curled up and mashing to keep pace with Pete [yup, another repeat ride home]. I didn't feel tired until I ate dinner; a full tummy and juiced out muscles meant no work got done. Gchat [read: my best friend] kept me awake until I couldn't resist sleep. And like most days since I started racking up the miles, I passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow.
I can't wait to do it again. Stop. Rewind. Repeat!