greasy madeleines

Like Proust and his madeleines, certain scents can have me mentally reeling back to, well, remembering things past.
I still have a soft spot for Old Spice Sport which will eternally be linked to college boyfriends, late night games of beirut, the beer-soaked floor of fraternities and a particular red vinyl couch [patched with duct tape] I used to pass out on. The smell of good leather sends me back to barns, horses, and that inexplicable feeling of flying when jumping my first "chicken coop." And that unique smell of a hot iron and the stringent scent of turpentine brings me back to summers spent in Lenox; painting, drawing, and, of course, sewing.
My most recent scent-linked-to-memory is admittedly...more...wtf in comparison. Because these days, I'm in love with a certain Phil Wood.
There's really no describing the distinctive smell of Phil's deep green, greasy goodness. Incredibly smooth, he stands out from the rest of the pack in his sleek, Bianchi-celeste-green-esque packaging. His cologne is, for me, all things bike, mechanics, bike tools, and intact threads.

It was only natural then, that I made sure to pick him up a few days ago when I swung by IBC. The new tool set-up and rummaging in a few drawers for a requested rubber hammer resulted in pure tool envy...and a reminder that I needed some action from a particular Mr. Wood. Although, I admit, the pure abundance of a Mr. Park was almost enough to derail not only my purpose for dropping by IBC [other than hanging out as per the usual], but my wallet/bank account as well.

I almost didn't notice the new tool board until later, but instantly wanted the same set up in my future bike home/garage/workshop/studio space. The organization, designated spot for each tool, and the grouping of the tools by function and size had my OCD purring in contentment. When I saw Wes return a tool to its rightful place, I almost sighed in happiness.

This is what bike shop dreams are made of - friends, tools, grease, and smiles. And while I forgot to drop that tube of Phil in my bag this morning, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to need to huff that tube for a while.

this isn't working

It's funny how on some of the most beautiful days, you end up in the foulest mood.
The ride in yesterday was fine, the day at school was fine, the ride home [the long way] was fine...
...until, getting reckless because I wasn't willing to accept that a guy bombing down Mass Ave was, in fact, faster than me, I threw my chain chasing him. There was an ugly snappy crackling sound and then I found myself pedaling...but nothing was working. My back wheel didn't lock up which meant that I was pedaling air for about 5 whole seconds until I figured out, oh, I have brakes [and now might be a good time to use them]!
I flipped my bike over, pulled out the wrench and started untangling the mess. I was planning on stopping into Cambridge Bikes anyway, so after getting my bike operational, I slowly gimped my way there.

I arrived with a stunningly attractive mix of dirt, brake dust, and chain lube covering half of my face. Of course, I didn't know this until I walked into the uber cool, hip shop that is CB. But, as regular readers may know, I've pretty much lost all sense of dignity by this point, so I almost didn't care that I looked like I had just made out with my filthy chain.
The only thing keeping me from throwing my bike into the river on the way home was trying to keep pace with Pete [I managed to scoot into CB right before closing, so we headed home together]. Dragging a 20lbs+ fixed 'cross bike, plus an overstuffed bag, plus all my extra weight...I was hating life.
Seriously, my bike's a tank. Utilitarian, but a tank. I made up my mind today to sell her when the new bike's done. My friends are sort of right...I should be looking into road bikes so I can do decent rides. And while the tractorino's been good to me so far, I just don't see the point of having two fixed gears. And come on...am I really going to ride the tractorino once the dapper Brit's up and running?
So...anyone want her?
[Just kidding. I wouldn't sell her for the world...but it is April Fool's Day :D]

judging appearances

Sorry, but I don't believe that people don't judge appearances. At least to some extent.
Like a messy apartment. Don't try to tell me that a filthy living situation isn't being mentally assessed the first time you see it. Maybe, unlike me, your mind isn't racing, trying to find a way to get out of said disgusting apartment, but let's be honest, you're still judging.
One reason why I will frantically clean up my apartment if anyone is going to even just stop by.
Unfortunately this hasn't really been translating to my bike. I've been the worst bike mom recently. So bad, that I've found myself in uncomfortably embarrassing situations where I take my bike in to be looked at and end up muttering some apology about how I meant to clean it before coming into the shop, while the mechanic reaches for a rag.
Yeah, I bet he's judging. I would.

I managed, last night, to chip away the crusty salt-dirt-water mixture that was caked on my downtube though. My rims got wiped down and I also realized that my rear hub is actually a shiny silver, not some gray/matte silver color. The chain got lubed and my tires pumped; those usually get done, but it doesn't really do much to improve the general messy appearance of my bike.
As always, I ended up with grease-stained hands, wrists, and arms. Soap only does so much, which means I get to appreciate exactly how manishly dirty my hands look as I finished the rest of my tea.

I've come to the conclusion that bike grease just isn't swoon-worthy or even endearing on a girl. Or at least not on this one. And, even though I know you're going to [because I totally would], don't judge, okay?
[Edit: it's gorgeous out today. Get out and ride!]