Just finished letting my batch of toffee cool. It turned out well--I used a recipe from a chocolate cookbook that I got on super-sale from Avol's, and although there were too many directions (I hate directions! Tell me the ingredients and the temperature and how long and I am perfectly capable of figuring out the rest!), it was good. I am impatient and therefore did not wait for it to cool completely before breaking off a corner and gnawing at its chocolatey sugary goodness. As a result, my mouth now feels a little gross.

Had my first bad bike crash in a while yesterday. I'd been riding in the rain with The Boy when we took the big bike trail hill down towards a bridge. Normally, hills as steep as this one make me nervous, because I'm still adjusting to my new frame and handlebars and don't have the control I'd like. Most of the time, it's just nerves--I'm fine once I get through. This time, though, I didn't see a curb coming much farther out than it seemed from the top of the hill. It was, of course, invisible until I was curled into a little ball, loosening up for the sharp bridge turn. I had time to make a decision whether to swerve, lose control, and skid onto the concrete, whether to swerve, somehow maintain control, and crash into the bridge turn, or swerve far enough away from the curb that I could ditch the bike and take a grass fall without causing too much damage to either of us. Opted for the third scenario, and made a decent exit and rolling recovery, managing not to hurt myself apart from bruises on my knees and right hip. I did knock the front wheel out of true, but I didn't break anything, which was fortunate.

My right hood is also beginning to crack, and the left one is nearly worn through. Looking for replacements has narrowed down the age of my bike, though--the hoods that fit my brake levers/shifters are pre-1998 Campys. So. One more clue in the mystery of where it came from.

I am seriously in love with that thing.
I am in love with a piece of steel.

And with its noisy chain and twitchy derailleurs and newly-trued wheels and bright yellow saddle that is as uncomfortable as anything I've ever set my ass on for any long period but with time will do me well.

I'm in love with the white-and-green paint scheme with yellow accents. I'm in love with my delicate-looking Campagnolo (referred to affectionately by the boys at the bike shop as Campy) shifters because my hands are tiny and normal shifters integrated into brakes are difficult for me to operate.

I am not in love with the pedals, but that's just because I haven't gotten new ones for it yet.

Mostly, though, I'm in love with my bicycle because no one can explain where it came from.

It's a LeMond frame, trial paint scheme never put into production, internal brake cables never put into production, a bunch of Campy Record parts. The bike shop boys guess it's an early 90s prototype, but no one really knows. They spend hours online looking for bikes that look like mine with no luck. And they're all insanely jealous, because it's mine.

I took it out for a first test ride yesterday, which resulted in (a) a pedal coming unthreaded and falling off (b) a flat front tire and (c) mud in unmentionable places once it started to rain. It was amazing. I am giddy in love.



May 2010



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