The Purchase

I awoke with greater clarity than the night before.  What did I really want? The CAAD 10.  Where could I get it?  The shop with Diane.  I thought about the long months of going without lunch, scrapping and saving and yearning to be united with that wonderfully worked aluminum.  Was I going to let one bad experience stand in the way of my dream?  I decided that I wasn't.

I took my wife to dinner than night.  She deserved it.  We had Italian with a creme brulee dessert that was to die for.  I thanked my wife for her sound counsel as always.  We left the restaurant after enjoying a wonderful meal sans kids and drove down the street to the bike shop.  I decided this was the night that all my dreams would come true.

We walked through the sliding glass doors hand-in-hand.  I felt like I might need some support if things got a little rough.  I went straight for the CAAD 10 and pulled it off the rack before anyone could say anything.  Another saleswoman (not Diane) approached me with the same "What can I help you with?"

"I would like to look at this CAAD 10" I firmly stated.

The saleswoman (we'll call her Sandy) smiled and replied "okay, have you been measured?"

Have I been measured?  I carefully choose my words.  "I have been measured" I answer without revealing what the previous super scientific computer aided measurement was.

"Great!" She replies, "Go ahead and climb on."

I throw my leg over the white top tube.  The seat is a little low.  Sandy adjusts it with her wrench.

"That looks great!" she says.  "How does it feel?"

"It feels great" I reply with great satisfaction.  From the corner of my eye I can see the Synapse watching.  I mentally stick my tongue out mockingly.

"Would you like to test ride it tonight?" Sandy asks.

"I would love too!"

Sandy leads me outside to the test ride course.  She orients me and lets me take off.  The first pedal stroke is wobbly and I almost steer into the wall.  The next stroke is more confident and I pick up speed.  I run through some of the shifting.  It is smooth and reliable.  I bank left into the first turn hard.  Stiff and controlled, just like I knew it would be. I accelerate into the straightaway then brake for a sharp u-turn.  All I need is one circuit to determine this is the one for me.  I pull up along side Sandy.

"How does it feel?"  She asks.

"Perfect.  I think this will be Merry Christmas to me!"

Sandy is stunned.  "You want to buy it?" she says with a little disbelief in the brevity of the ride.

"I do" I reply in a way like committing to a marriage more than a purchase.

Sandy tires to sell me on some pedals and other accessories that I already have but I decline politely.  She walks me and the bike over to counter, sends the bike to maintenance and rings me up.  I swipe my card and feel the rush of excitement continue to pulse inside of me.  Everyone of the sales people congratulate me on the purchase of this bike.

"She's a beauty!" one notes admiring the bike.

"You will really enjoy that one" another remarks.

Diane is not there to weigh in on my final decision.  I'm glad.

A few minutes later, my name is called and I pick the bike up from maintenance and leave the store with my wife.  I'm no longer holding her hand, but gently directing the bike to our van. 

The Dilemma

So I know which bike I want.  I know my size (and it is not 56 cm).  I know one shop in town has the bike in my size all ready to go.  The dilemma is that I have a hard time buying the bike from a place that just acted like I didn’t exist.  If they don’t want to listen to me and just ask me about how much running I USED to do and exclaim “I have the perfect bike for you!” then I don’t want to have anything to do with them.  I told my wife about it that night after we put the kids down to bed.  She responded to the tale with “ I just can’t believe that” and “what nerve!”  I don’t know if she really felt that way or was just being supportive, but I appreciated the support and felt better.

Over the next few days I started to stew.  Was I being too harsh?  Had I taken Diane’s approach the wrong way?  My heart was beginning to soften but there was an imp inside of me that wanted vindication.  In some free time I looked up reviews online and found that others had had nearly identical experiences as I had.  I felt emotionally justified.  I had not been over sensitive!  Others had felt the same way too!  That night I returned home and shared my findings of that day with my wife.  She lovingly validated all my concerns, but when I mentioned my dilemma she wisely counseled me to not let this get in the way of getting the bike that I had worked so hard for.  She left it with “it’s up to you though.”  I have a good wife.

I considered my options as I tried to fall asleep that night.  Do I honor my offended feelings and forgo buying my dream bike in time for Christmas?  Do I swallow my pride and humbly return the the shop?  Do I fall somewhere in the middle and march back in and demand to test ride the CAAD 10?  Maybe a good night's sleep would help.  It did and the solution was clear the next morning.

The Audition

I’ve been auditioning bike shops around town during my lunch hour.  I have a basic set of criteria: location, selection, reliability, and personability. There are several shops in the area and I have enjoyed dropping in and getting the feel for each.  Some have been close, personable, but lacked selection.  Others have been close with selection, but lack that personal connection.  Recently, I stopped by a local shop that I had heard was a really nice facility.  It had an automatic sliding glass door that you walk through, rows of bikes on the left and rows of fitness equipment on the right.  The selection was good and the location was acceptable. 

I was particularly interested in this shop because it was one of the only ones in town that had a Cannondale CAAD 10 5 in my size (54) in stock.  I found the bike's glowing white frame in the lineup and before I could think about pulling it off the rack, a saleswoman (we’ll call her Diane) approached me. 

“What can I help you with?” she asked in more of a statement than question.

“I’m really interested in looking at your CAAD 10.  I’ve heard great things about the aluminum frame.”  I reply.  But, to make sure she knew that I wasn’t going to buy anything today I quickly added, “My wife is wanting to get me a new bike for Christmas so I thought I would give her a recommendation.”  This was mostly true.  I do want the bike for Christmas and my wife is on board with it.

Diane gives me a look up and down.  “Are you a runner?” She asks.  

I laugh.  “No not anymore.  Running and I had a falling out years ago.”  

Diane looks skeptical.  “What kind of a bike do you ride now?”

“I don’t have a bike now.  That’s why I’m looking for one.”

This question was a throw away and Diane returns to asking about running.  “When you ran, about how many miles a day were you running?”  

Okay.  This is red flag number 1.  “Um, it’s been over 10 years, but when I ran I was running about 7 miles a day.”

“Okay, so when you ride your bike, what type of biking do you do?”  

“Right I’m not biking.  I don’t have a bike.  Once again, that is why I’m here.”  

Diane has stopped making eye contact and is looking down and to her left as she continues to ask me questions.  I can tell she is trying to figure something out in her head, but I think it has little to do with what I am saying.

“So how do you want to use a new bike?”  

Is this a trick question? I feel like I’m in an interview to adopt and these questions are probing my competence as a potential new bike parent.  If I don’t pass, it’s “no bike for you!”  I have lots of reasons for wanting to ride.  Some are and are not any of Diane’s business. 

“Well, I would like to ride on the weekends and some during the week if I can.  Eventually I might like to work up to commuting, but definitely not right away.”

I see her eyes light up when I mention the word “commute” like a light coming on.

“Do you want to race?” She asks.

“Well, I definitely don’t have any plans right now.” 

“Good” she mumbles quietly.

Good?  Is that commentary on me or on what has been brewing in her head?  And with that, the interview is over.  

“I have the perfect bike for you!”  she exclaims, still adverting her gaze.

She marches me to the end of the line of bikes, right past the CAAD 10 that I expressed interest in, and she points out a Cannondale Synapse.

“This is the perfect bike for you, but first we need to see if it is the right size because we only have this one.”

Red flag number 2.  So I am beginning to see that Diane has no interest in showing me the bike that I want to see and every intent to get me to buy the Synapse.  Now, what are the chances that I am not going to be a “fit” for that bike?

She directs me to the measurement station.  I take my shoes off and stand on a platform with an adjustable wooden bar that I am instructed to pull up between my legs until it won’t go any further.  Once the bar is in place I am instructed to step down from the platform onto a slightly lower level. All of a sudden she starts singing with the Christmas music in the shop.  “This is my favorite song” she replies.  It’s “Santa Baby”  and she should be wishing for a better singing voice for Christmas in my opinion.  She sways her hips and gives a tug on her spandex -like leggings. 

“This should feel a bit uncomfortable” Diane says and then asks “Does it feel uncomfortable?”

Oh, this is uncomfortable in so many ways.  I squeak out an affirmative and wonder if this punishment is just softening me up for the sale.  

I’m instructed to step back up on the platform and I do with great relief.  Meanwhile, Diane is tapping something into the computer at the station.  She looks at my height and continues to tap away at the keys She instructs me to step off of the platform and put my shoes back on.

“Good news” she exclaims, “it’s the right size for you!”

Of course it is.  Why wouldn’t it be.  The thing could have been five sizes too large, but I have a feeling Diane would have insisted that the bike and I were a match made in heaven.  And besides, she used a computer and you can’t argue with a computer.

She walks me back over to the Synapse, pulls it off the rack and begins to tell me about all the wonderful features.  I tone her out and keep glancing back to the CAAD 10. Diane takes the bike and places the front tire between her legs to stabilize it and instructs me to climb on.  I throw a leg over the bike and mount the saddle.  

 

“Now” she says, “I need you to straighten your back more.  That will help on your commutes.” 

I straighten my back but note the reference to commuting.

“Now, I need you to bend your arms so you are not pushing the bike away from you.”

I think to myself that I’m not pushing the bike away, I’m reaching to grab the handlebars because the darn thing is just too big.  I try to bend my arms. 

“Does that feel uncomfortable at all?”  she asks as if the only answer could be “no, not at all.”  However, I feel like the machine is more of a mobile contortion device with the way she has me positioned.

“I do feel  a little uncomfortable like it is on the edge of my reach” I reply trying to be courteous.  All the time I can see the CAAD 10 from the corner of my eye.  I just know it would feel better than this.

“Well, we have a fitting service for just $200 after you buy the bike the will make any fine tuning adjustments you may need” Diane answers.

Red flag number three.  If I thought that she wasn’t listening before, I know she isn’t now.  She wants to sell this bike to me and she is not budging no matter what.  And on top of it all, she has the nerve to suggest dropping hundreds of dollars to “adjust” a bike that doesn’t fit to begin with.  At that moment I decide I am done with Diane and possibly done with the shop.

“Would you like to take a test ride?”  She pauses.  “I don’t know, it is a little cold, but you do have a fleece on so you will be okay.”  

Who are you?  My mother?  It is almost 50 degrees outside and IF I were really interested in this bike, a little cold would not stop me from test riding the bike. I reply with a simple “no thank you.”

 

She quickly tries to up the urgency of the sale.  “Well, tell your wife that she needs to act fast because we only have this one left and it is your size and everything.”

It takes everything thing I can do from laughing.  

“Let me get you my card for you to give to your wife and I will show her this bike and have her get it for you.”

She writes her name on a business card and hands it to me.

“I also put my hours on there because I’m not here every day.  She will get 10% off all accessories when she buys the bike so we can use that to get your rack.”

Rack?  What rack?  I’m so confused.

Diane continues unaware of my questioning look.  “Of course that bike is not set up for a rack so we will also need to get you an adapter so the rack will fit on.”  

It clicks.  She is trying to bundle a rack on the bike for carrying my belongings while I "commute."  It is clear that she got that one thing stuck in her head and never heard another word.  I politely accept the card and walk out of the shop disappointed, confused, and a little offended.  I also have a big dilemma.

Changing

The weather is changing.  The summer scorched flora, left a shriveled shade of brown, has rejuvenated in recent autumn air.  The grass is green again and life seems to have survived just long enough to flourish for a few moments before it begins to rust into the magnificent colors of fall. 

Cooler air has also brought out a swarm of cyclist, buzzing along sidewalks, trails and streets.  I see children riding to school in the mornings, older couples cruising on a sunny afternoon, and weekend warriors finding their cadence in a group.  Their colorful jerseys seem to herald the coming color of fall.  I find myself staring at them all as I pass them in my car.  I probably look like a stalker memorizing every detail of that blonde on a Schwinn, but in all actuality, I’m really just interested in the Schwinn.  I gaze at the glorious geometry of the frame, the rotation of the crank arm, and hold my breath to hear the sound of shifting gears.  The bike and I connect, drawn together by some magnetism.  However, I am quickly overtaken by something else.  Envy.  You see, the grass is not the only thing that has recently turned green.

I cannot seem to control it.  I am overcome by this brute that lashes out at the fact that anyone, seemingly everyone has a bike but me.  I secretly curse the couples on their cruisers.  Do they know what a majestic machine they ride?  I quietly berate children on their Huffy bikes.  Do they realize how fortunate they are?  I even found myself jealous of a little girl with pony tails on a small pink bike with training wheels and grumbled to myself that she probably didn’t even appreciate how cute her pink and white handlebar streamers were, but she should.  

My children have bikes.  They cause me more internal anquish than all the rest.  They are thrust in my face every day, abondoned in the driveway or garage where I park my car.  I am forced to see them, think of them, even touch them as I make way for my vehicle.  I wrap my fingers around the top tube and I feel the pulse of energy within the cold steel.  Speed begs to be unleashed.  It calls for someone to climb aboard and blast off.  But it doesn't call to me.  I drag them into their corner of the garage and turn my back, trying to forget them.  But I can still hear the whimper in my mind.   I promise myself that one day, that empty space on the wall will be filled with my own aluminum animal, purring softly for attention.  Nothing thrills me more to think that some day, I can answer that call, head out into the crisp air, and maybe cause someone else to pause, admire, and even turn a little green.

Lessons

After six long months of unreturned phone calls, threatening letters, and negotiation, I have finally received a check from the moving company for my "lost" bike.  I still secretly check ebay on a weekly basis to see if my old friend shows up for auction.  I have also managed to stay true to my resolution to not eat out for lunch at work anymore.  While my intake of orange chicken has decreased, my intake of real oranges has increase.  Probably a worthwhile trade off.  I find myself reassuring my pleading stomach that this will all be worth it.  I don't think he believes me.  So that, with the $35 dollars I save in cancelling my gym membership result in $85 a month going to my fund.  

I recently taught a course and earned another $300.  I was thrilled!  The next day my family set out on a cross country flight for my sister's wedding.  Less than 24 hours after having $300, baggage fees and car rental fees/insurance ate away at all my profits.  Not a good day morale wise to say the least.  Couple it with the fact that this all went down at about 2 AM in a rental mini-van, kids screaming and my mother giving me less than helpful directions from the back seat to the hotel.  I'd ask, "Where do I need to turn?"  Her response: "Well, when your father and I came, we originally turned left a block before hand, but we discovered an easier way..."  To which I would respond, "That's great, but do I need to turn left here?"  Mom: "There is an entrance coming up and it is a quick way into the hotel parking lot, but there is also another way in...oh yes, that back there is where we turn."  

Needless to say we missed the turn and by then, the kids were not the only ones yelling in the car.  We eventually made it. My wife was mad at me for yelling at my mom and I was still out $300.  Here is what I learned:

1) Nothing good ever happens at 2 AM and I just seem to end up owing everyone an apology even though I'm the one out all the money. 

2) Things never work out the way you plan.  Consider the running total to my bike fund:

+300 -300 :( +85 +300 = $385 and a long ways to go.

3) Patience is a very hard quality to develop.

4) Rental car insurance is the biggest scam!

Solutions

My first instinct to pull together quick cash is to list all my valuables on eBay.  After a quick inventory, I decide that my baseball cards and comic books have not suddenly appreciated beyond worthless.  On to plan B which will probably take longer and be downright agonizing.

Step 1 – Sell out.  After stiff negotiations with the moving company that will remain unnamed, I can sign a release statement that relinquishes my rights to formally complain about their service in any form of media for $300.   I wanted significantly more, but should consider this a victory since they really didn't want to offer more than $90 initially.  While part of me wants to tell them where to shove their money and shout from the rooftops what a lousy company they are, the other part of me really wants a new bike and needs money for it.  Not great.  Not even good, but it's a start.  I decide to take the deal. 

Step 2 – Stop eating.  Actually, stop eating out.  As part of our monthly budget, I get $50 to spend however I would like.  I have yet to accurately calculate how much my wife allots herself monthly.  My gut feel is that it is a little more than my 50.   Once again, don't rock the boat.  Just stay focused.  Generally, my full monthly amount (plus a little extra) goes to funding weekday lunches.  I’ve become a usual at a couple of places across the street from my office.  While Panda Express and Subway will probably miss my patronage, I will not miss the extra calories and I can add $50 a month to my bike fund.

Step 3 – Quit the gym.  I know this sounds counterproductive from my overall goal of getting in better shape, but right now the only exercise I am getting is lugging around my gym lanyard and key card around in my pocket.  Not exactly the "complete package" workout I was promised.  I add another $35 a month to the bike fund by dropping my membership.  It has to be done in person.  Be strong and don't let them talk you into renewing for extra features at a higher price.  Although, I do have to take a moment to bid a certain someone farewell ... So long my sweet sauna.  It was a wonderful affair while it lasted!

Step 4 – Perform a couple of minor medical procedures.  This is not as shady as you might think.  Full disclosure: I work for a medical practice and I legally and ethically perform voice restoration procedures for head and neck cancer patients.  I also teach a course with a colleague training other professionals how to perform this procedure.  This course is offered every other month and we have one scheduled for August and another for October.  I can put part of my earnings from the course into the bike fund.  Hello $$$. 

Step 5 – Talk someone into given me a crazy deal on a bike.  This is where all those hours practicing using “the force” deemed useless by my mother come in handy.  One quick Jedi mind trick on some weak-minded bike salesman and I’m in business.  Once I have the money of course.  Realistically, it will probably be someone working magic for me instead of the other way around.  I’ll probably call my buddy Charles who has serious connections and see what happens. 

If all goes according to plan (like that is going to happen), in a few short (agonizingly long) months, I will be the new owner of a shiny, pedal-less road bike (still have to figure out how to fund accessories like pedals, shoes, sleek outfit, etc).

Also - Congrats to Alexander Vinokourov for taking gold today in the Olympic Road Race.  What a way to finish a career!

My hear goes out to Taylor Phinney.  So close to the podium and a medal.  Still proud of you for 4th! 

Oversight

I might have jumped the gun on launching this site and gearing up for this lifestyle change by overlooking one basic fact: I do not currently own a bike.  The short version as to why is that we recently moved from the East to the Midwest.  I owned a bike when we loaded all of our belongings onto a truck in North Carolina.  When we settled into Indiana and all of our belongings arrived, I was no longer the owner of a bicycle.  It seems that it was “lost” somewhere in between here and there.  I have my suspicions.  More to come on this later. 

There is a silver lining to this misfortune.   My previous ride was a mountain bike and I have reached a stage where I need a road bike to accomplish my cycling goals.  So, instead of having to justify dropping serious cash on a new road bike in addition to maintaining my mountain bike, I can play the sympathy card with my wife for having my old bike stolen.  Um, I mean lost.  So far, it has worked and she is on board with the plan to reinvent, re-energize, and reinvigorate myself.  And why wouldn’t she be? A slimmer, trimmer, more energetic me has benefits for her as well.  I have been informed that there will not be more to come on this later.  

 

Back to the problem at hand:  I have no bike… and no money.   Another small detail overlooked.  After reviewing the family finances I have found the reason that my wife keeps the books.  We have little discretionary money and it seems that anything left over after bills, kids, food, etc is quickly rerouted and used for one of dozens of projects to “beautify” our home.  After deciding that a happy marriage and comfortable home are more important to me than prosecuting my wife for improper use of funds, I realize that I am on my own. 

Inaugural

For years, my wife has tried to convince me to start a blog.  "You could write about your opinions on world issues," she says "your thoughts, your ideas, your stances."  In her opinion, it would be good for me to fling my musings into cyberspace and see what might bounce back.  While I agree that writing itself would benefit me, I do not share her optimistic assumption that anything would echo from my inevitable ranting.  So, for years, I have declined to enter the blogosphere and reassured myself that I would pick my writing back up one of these days when I have some free time.  I always seem to be a day away from starting my great American novel.

The same is true for exercise.  For years, the idea of starting a consistent workout routine has been appealing, but three children quickly consume every second of time that seems available.  I've put off workouts chalking it up to being a "good dad."  However, as I watch my midsection grow and my stamina shrink I can no longer kid myself.  I'm worried about my health and know that I need to change certain habits soon before I reach the point of no return called indifference.

So, as a solution to both my writing and exercise dilemmas, I am dedicating myself to a passion that I have had for a long time, but have had an on again, off again relationship with - bicycling.   Finally, I am taking my wife's advice (imagine that) and start this blog as a way to excite myself, chart my progress and hold myself accountable.  The idea is to get on again and stay in the saddle this time and document the heck out of it.  Oh, it is worth mentioning that I don't currently own a bicycle.  That will need to be at the top of the goal list.

Ok.  Here I go.  I'm back on again (mentally at least) and hopefully I stay this time.