Karen writes: Bike hospital

The faithful road bike went into the bike hospital this morning.  I dropped it off, feeling marginally chagrined as the mechanic visibly restrained himself and just commented that the chain was “a bit grubby isn’t it”.   Um yep.  And that was after I had religiously been using the ‘self cleaning’ lubricant, AND done a job with an old piece of towelling and the WD40 just before loading it onto the bikerack...actually I was kinda hoping the chain would just be replaced.

As I exited the store I did cast a wistful glance over my shoulder at the brand new updated and super go-fast younger relatives of the poor old Scott, but no, I’m not really tempted, partly because everything I read suggests that operating at my level and pace there aren’t really any benefits to be gained from flasher equipment, but also, my bike and me share a HISTORY, all those km of training, clocking up all those 100 milers around Taupo, more training, the triathlons, more training…

Plus, for me, there is another good reason for not yearning after something pristine and new (and hideously expensive). Then I would feel honour bound to be a bit pathological about looking after it, no greasy fingerprints left, no sentimental coke splatters from Hatepe Hill still there months later, no dried possum guts lurking underneath, no jamming it into the rack with the kids bikes, no not worrying about the various assorted dents and scrapes which come from a busy riding life on back country roads (and a clumsy owner).

So the old faithful has had the full treatment, the drivetrain pulled apart, washed in kerosene (mechanical equivalent of bubble bath I am assured), inspected, lubed and adjusted and some rusting cables replaced…hopefully the gears will change reliably now, and nothing will drop off for the next 5 weeks, getting us safely through our biggest challenge ever...

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