Phil's Bike Tour

Wednesday, June 29, 2005

mild mannic maurder needs home, love

NYC

I come on the scene like a frantic solder. Blazing eyes, nostrils, blunts, stewardesses. My flight delayed, my LA connection of EL Jimmy and Orlando are nowhere to be found. They waited an hour... so I have most of the tools i need to build my bike, with the exception of the big allen i need for the crank arm. So i leave it in the box.

and i go, carrying it when i can dragging it when i cant, from JFK to the subway, to Bedford where I know there are lots of bike shops and they will all want to help me cause im from out of town in for the race and hella charming, like charmin

I get plenty of bad directions. Few people know where a bike shop is, fewer give the right directions. My box is heavy, but the panniers slung over my shoulder and my overstuffed sling bag are digging into my shoulder like an bird of prey.

After a couple hours I do finally get to a shop on Havermeyer. They dont lend tools. Call up the LA Connection, they have crashed and need a couple hours. So I follow suit and pass out on the sidewalk. I cant lock up my stuff so I wake every min when a loud noise startles me. Still sleep is a ok. Another call to El Jimmy after a few hours go by. "sorry, we are

So I do my best to build up the bike that I love but still fully understand. Something I should have done long ago, but I really dont trust myself, and for good reason. I suck at this shit.

Eventually it works out. My bike can roll, it can stop, i can haul my panniers over my shoulders cause i dont have a rack. (Jim C is bringing them from the Bike Kitchen in LA soon)

I get to the hut just in time. Pouring rain gets my ass nervous about my time here, I dont have much rain gear.

Then all is calm, but im still hyper. I feel on edge. I dont have internet access as much as i want. Some Balentines makes me fell better. Then my eyes go south as my contacts move around, I try riding my bike, but I still haven't tightened all the headtube things quite right so it dont take long for me to find a roll up door to crash into. Thanks to a German Girl who is staying here I get back to the Black Label's Chicken Hut with only scratches and an sunken ego.

meh.

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