Ever since our bikes were stolen in DC, we’ve talked about getting new ones. I recently bought a used one with the understanding that I’ll justify sinking hundreds into a nice bike once I’ve worn this old one out. I wanted to buy my wife a new bike so we could ride together, but she wouldn’t consider it. She was adamant that we fix up her childhood ten speed. This might have made sense if her old bike was of high quality, but it’s always been a blue light special. What’s worse, it’s been languishing in a garage filled with salty air for several years now. My wife wasn’t swayed by any of my protestations, and her parents brought this piece of junk to our house on their last visit:
I worked as a mechanic at a bike shop one summer in college, so I’m not entirely useless when it comes to this kind of work. Still, I made it clear to my wife that if she wanted to give new life to her bike, she’d be doing most of the work herself. She enthusiastically agreed and we rolled up our sleeves.
