Do you ever feel like curses are real? Do you ever suffer a catastrophe that is not just unfortunate, but ironic too? Terrible, but simultaneously epically hilarious?
My bike's had a fair few problems of late. I cycle everywhere; it's my main form of transport and I love this bike enormously. I don't know if it's the best bike I've ever owned, but it objectively is and the only question is whether that's enough to overpower the emotional bonds I've felt with other bikes I've owned. It was really hard to find a bike that has all the features I want, but I did it.
Here's a picture; isn't she beautiful?But you need to fix bikes, and because bike shops are all crooks and highwaymen, this can sometimes be harder than it needs to be. A few weeks ago, I started having some minor issues: the wheels squeak, the gear shifter didn't show which gear I was actually in, and the rear gears were getting worn down because I go everywhere in the same gear, in 21st out of 24 for 50-60 miles a week, every week of the year. So having ridden about 5000 miles total in the same one gear, I decided to remove the gear cassette (the cogs on the back) and replace it with the one I bought for my previous bike, which I never got to attach because the old one had rusted on and couldn't be removed. Well, actually that was the bike before the previous bike: the previous bike was stolen a couple of months after I bought it. That's another rant for the rant thread. Fun fact: the UK is well-known for its thousands of security cameras and ubiquitous CCTV, but most businesses have CCTV for insurance purposes only, and the footage cannot be used to solve crimes like bike thefts. Also, legally, you can't share CCTV footage with anyone, not even the police, without a warrant. Also also, the police back in 2016 were so underfunded that they openly told me they weren't going to bother watching the footage anyway, because they had more important things to do. Thanks for the taxes; now fuck off.
But like I say, today's rant is the hardship of replacing a gear cassette (plus further hardships - this is going to be a long post). You'd think I could just replace it because they'd all be basically the same, right? Bikes made five years apart should still be made from the same parts, right? More or less?
Haha, nope!
"You can't remove the gear cassette with
that tool; you need this
very slightly different, but otherwise basically identical, other tool that you need to buy separately." So I bought that.
"Dude, you can't just unscrew it! I know you could last time, but now you need a
chain whip!" That's very handy for you, people who sell bike tools. Guess I'll need to go back the following Saturday, after riding my knackered bike for another week.
This happened three or four more times. It really was a pain in the ass. But if it happened weeks ago, why am I ranting now? Well, this most recent Saturday, finally, I had all the parts. I removed the old gear cassette...and could not attach the new one. Great. Now I'm bikeless. So I had to go back to the shop
again, on a
Sunday, the
Lord's Day, and take the whole damn wheel with me because the guy had insisted that they are indeed interchangeable and I should be able to attach the other one as long as they're both Shimano cassettes, which they were, and I needed to prove him wrong.
"Oh, bro. No. That one has a screw fitting and the other one doesn't. You'll need to buy a new gear cassette." You know, part of the reason I was doing all this was to use up this spare one that I had. You utter bastards. Like I said above: bike shops are all crooks and highwaymen.
But I did it! I replaced the gear cassette, I replaced the chain, I re-indexed the gears, I reinflated the tyres and I oiled the wheel axle thingies (still no idea what they're actually called) and I positively flew to work today. Calloo, callay; what fabulous news. Triumph at last. I should definitely post this in the Not A Rant At All Thread.
Boy, it sure has been a long time since I started this post with a rhetorical question about ironic catastrophes, hasn't it?
I work in a datacentre; it's a very high-security place. It takes forever to get through all the doors we have. But at 6:30pm, I got a call from someone reporting that there was an issue with the gates to the car park; they weren't opening and were jammed. I don't know how to fix that, but our security team said they'd switch them off and on again to see if that worked (it usually does). I had a closer look when I was going home at 7:15pm, and indeed, it would appear that some dildo had crashed his car into them and now one was jammed open and the other was jammed closed. Some guy from another company in our building was trying to leave, and I wound up having to open the delivery gate for him so he could drive out. Now, to get on my bike and pedal swiftly to my home, for an evening of absolutely no online ranting.
That's funny. WHERE THE FUCKING HELL IS MY FUCKING BIKE?!?!?!?!? The fence I chain it to had no bike chained to it now. And, upon closer inspection, the bike lock was on the ground, snipped with bolt cutters like a cartoon drawing of what a bicycle theft would look like. Lying right there, right where my bike now wasn't.
Like I say, I work in a very high-security building. There's CCTV everywhere, so that's nice, and the security is a nice touch because we're in a pretty scabby ghetto, location-wise. Such a total shithole, in fact, that within just 45 minutes of someone bumping our gates open, a swarm of skanky meth-head parasites just fucking strolled right in there and stole the bike I had spent weeks repairing. The bike I need for everyday life. The bike that might be the best bike I've ever owned. The bike that ruined my weekend with inconvenience, but rewarded me with the many years of comfy riding that would follow. They fucking took it. And I know what the police are like because I had a bike stolen once before. My taxes can't afford the fucks I need them to give. I called them anyway, but
FUCK.
You fucking snakes. You thieving fucking parasites. You worthless deadbeat scrotes. You walk right in here and rob me of potentially my single most expensive possession. You fucked up my whole day. You despicable pieces of shit. Now I have to get the tram, that takes a ridiculous detour past all the harrowing slums you animals live in, and takes twice as long to get me home as literally pedalling under my own power. That, or the bus which takes about the same time but does not come very frequently.
I am so, so, so mad. I accept that it's a little bit funny that I should work so hard on my bike, for weeks, just to have it stolen on the very first day after the renovations were completed. That shit is hilarious. And perhaps, if the thieves are caught, and delivered to me, and the police agree that I have suffered immensely and cannot be blamed for any retribution I might hypothetically commit against these perpetrators, then maybe I will laugh too as I go full Hostel on these fuckers, graphically and repeatedly.