My father always said, "If it's a problem that can be fixed with money, it's not really a problem."
He was, for much of his life, a person of some means, however, so this was a fairly simple thing for him to be able to say. Nonetheless, I get it. There are problems in this life that cannot be fixed, no matter how much money you have. Real, heartbreaking, chronic, sometimes fatal problems. I understand this difference all too well.
I, unlike my father, am not a person of means. To that end, I, personally, have found that the compounding effects of encountering many broken things in a short span of time can be challenging, despite the fact that many of those things are, indeed, fully reconcilable assuming you're willing/able to spend of the appropriate amount of money to purchase a solution.
Which is to say, most but not all of my recent problems have been of this type, the kind that can be fixed with money.
Below is a list of a few of the recent challenges I've faced, described in inverse order of the impact of the broken thing on my emotional and/or financial well-being, from least to greatest...
My Monē SB Klunker Sturmey-Archer coaster brake hub
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Ride on!
I put the coaster-brake wheel back on my Monē SB Klunker around the first of July to get it ready for Cruizer Nation 2026. But I think there's chance Cruizer Nation never happened this year. In the week leading up to race-day there was a big fire south of town puking smoke all over the region, and also the woods were on stage 2 fire restrictions (no cars, no overnighting, no fires allowed (thus no post-race tailgating)), so I have a feeling that it possibly never got off the ground. That'd be the end of, what, a thirty-year tradition? Too bad.
Then there was the fact that the morning of the fourth of July (race day, natch), it was the first day in something like nine or ten days that the smoke actually cleared. So, rather than head up to see if the race was on at high-noon as per tradition, I went on a slower and much more satisfying ride with a couple old friends instead.
Just for fun, I left the coaster brake wheel on the Monē for the balance of the month and went on some really good rides and did some fun skidding.
Upon inspection however, strangely enough, I found that the chain was still intact. Did notice, though, that the spring-clip which usually retains the Sturmey-Archer cog on the Sturmey-Archer hub had popped off. Wrastled with it for about 10 minutes, using a flat-blade screwdriver from my tool kit, and eventually wiggled it back in place. Bummer of it was, the drive-train still spun freely in both directions. Frick.
Coasted it home, thanks to the front (disc) brake. Only had to ride the draisienne-of-shame briefly, just across the flatish section of Noria Street at the top of my neighborhood.
After I got it apart in the garage the problem quickly became apparent. I'd brute-force sheared the teeth (all 3 of them) off the cog. Never done that before.
Wholesale cost (one of the perks of working in a bike shop) for the replacement part from JBI.bike, $3.00 (tax and shipping included)!
FIFTH
My cracked tooth.
My cracked tooth.
One of my molars (#19 if you must know) cracked painfully recently. Upon visiting with my dentist and his genial front office staff, I was disappointed to learn that my particular Delta Dental insurance plan, the one I get as an old-person through the state retirement system, does not cover old-people things like root canals and crowns.
Does-not-cover in this case means: "not-in-any-way, fuck you, pound sand old man."
So, I'm about $3200 out-of-pocket as of right now repairing my broken molar. But it's basically fixed at the moment. Got a temporary crown in place. I'll get the permanent one installed in a couple weeks.
That'll likely cost more money, I know.
Three-thousand-plus dollars is not a crazy amount of money, I get that. And every dollar I spent greatly eased my not insignificant physical pain. My dad wasn't wrong. Still, this was a massive expenditure for me.
I put it on a credit card. Didn't really have a choice.
But, yeah, I've owned lots of bikes. Still own several of them (don't ask me how many. I don't keep a talley of the number of bikes, tattoos, shoes, or friends I might possess at any given time). Most are rideable. A few are in the house on display along with the other works of art I am privileged to own. Many others are stored in the garage in a more prêt-à-porter state of being.
And then there are the ones that hang as just a frame up high on the wall in the garage.
These are the broken remnants of bikes that didn't make it. The DNRs and the DOAs. Frames fail, like anything, fatigue cycles and time and decay eventually catch up with them, just like those same factors do with us humans (see also: My cracked tooth above).
My most recently-failed frame is my beloved 2017 Specialized Fuse hardtail, one of the most fun and capable bikes I've ever owned. I put about 6500 miles on it over the years, but then it cracked on a weld at the top-tube/seat-tube junction on a ride the other day. I was able to ride it home, gingerly, by staying out of the saddle pretty much the whole way down.
Specialized honored their lifetime warranty and I got a decent amount of shop credit in return. Used it to buy a new Surly Sorceress frame. I am currently in the process of flipping a bunch of the parts off the Fuse on to it.
Still, there are a few pieces that I'm gonna need to buy, things that can't be transferred from the old bike to the new one... bottom bracket, headset, stuff like that.
Hoping to keep this project to under $500.00 out-of-pocket. I think that's realistic.
I'll update ya when I've got the final number.
THIRD
My Fluance RT-80 turntable.
My Fluance RT-80 turntable.
Noticed the other day that my player was spinning at about 31.2 rpms, instead of 33.3.
Bought and installed a new belt and power supply based on the advice I got from the good folks on the r/turntables forum on Reddit.
Brought it right back to spec.
The new belt was $20.00 shipped from Fluance. Got a new power supply for $15.00 on Amazon. So effectively, NBD (except for the couple weeks where I couldn't listen to records in the evening, which were kinda hard).
SECOND
My very best-of-cats Cat.
"Our estimate includes what could be both the low- and high-end costs for her treatment," said the pretty young nurse just before she bundled my best feline friend into a fluffy faded bath towel to carry her off for her stay in the pet hospital's ICU. Urinary tract infection and liver failure. She'd stopped eating about 24 hours prior. I'd read that this can often be a death knell for cats, so I rushed her in to see the doc ASAP.
Emotionally, I was wrecked. Scared by this diagnosis, of course. I dearly love this little cat. But also renewed in my anger and sadness. How can it be that the woman I loved could have condemned me to endure such things alone? These were our pets. This little cat, those goofy dogs. We brought them into our home. We promised to care for them. Together. How could she so easily replace them; how could she so easily replace Us?
It still doesn't make any sense to me.
Three weeks later, I'm happy to report my Cat is doing really well. Eating, pooping, putting on weight, getting back, day-by-day, to being her regular tree-dwelling-cat wonderful self! My best-cat. My constant companion. My dæmon.
I put it on a credit card. Didn't really have a choice.
Worth every penny.
FIRST
My stupid fucking still-broken heart.
My stupid fucking still-broken heart.
Prolly can't be fixed.
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