I’ve hardly been on the road at all over the past week, tied up in mind numbingly meaningless meetings. To be fair, I’ve also spent a fair amount of time preparing for the first days of class, setting up classrooms, and collaborating with my teachers. It’s all important stuff, but yet I still find myself resentful of any loss of “saddle time.” Already, the morning light is noticeably later each new day; the evening arrives equally fast.
Out in the shop stand several bikes, ready for riding. (And of course, I’ve also got others on wall stands indoor in my guest room.) The shop is a refuge at times, much the same way that my drawing board can be – a safe harbor to weather out the withering crap storms that a busy life often throws my way. I find solace in cleaning and polishing a neglected part or fitting a new tube and tire. Manipulating or even tooling a new part often demands the same creative problem solving thought processes that I engage in when I draw or design, so it’s no wonder such tasks are appealing to me.
Television is awful, and I will with some frequency simply abandon a show and walk off, eventually wandering in the direction of a table full of tools, a bike stand with a frame firmly displayed in the clamp, a tub of soapy liquid in which a brake caliper is immersed.
These past few days I’ve arrived home hours after the sun has set and then left again for work before Sol has had a chance to crest the morning horizon. Before settling into a chapter or two of William Gibson, another restless night of tossing and turning and then eventual slumber, I’ve headed out to the shop with a glass of Guinness and allowed my mind to free up. I know the days are getting shorter and so I’ve taken these few stolen minutes to work on setting up a dynamo hub and lighting for the Boulder. I had to fashion a bracket to hold the head lamp.
Here in my refuge, the Boulder gets set up for night rides. I cannot believe summer is ending.