Spring-like

Yesterday, for the first time in five days, the sun put in an appearance.  (Note: unlike today, cloudy with a chance of snow.)  It was first-week-of-March warm, so accommodating that the snow from the past few days was able to hang on in the shadows, but still, it was the sun, in April, in Chicagoland.  I could barely keep from building an altar for an animal sacrifice, but I didn’t want the neighbors to talk.  So, instead, I drove to my favorite bike shop.

There’s an honest-to-goodness Schwinn dealer twenty minutes from the house.  The place has a rather unique vibe, with orange shag carpeting on the floor and a mullet atop the owner’s head.  But I’ve come to trust the guy, as evidenced by how he handled my question if was time to get new tires.  Two of the Kevlar-reinforced ones I wanted would cost in the neighborhood of $100.

The dealer took a look at the front tire I’d brought along and told me I didn’t need to replace anything yet, but he did recommend repacking the axle wheel bearings (at $25, a veritable steal).  I’ve gone elsewhere to have a spoke replaced and been pressured to get an entire new wheel rim, so Mr. Schwinn is a business I make sure to patronize, sketchy neighborhood and all.

Walking to the door, I caught a whiff of rubber from all those bicycle tires crammed into a pretty tight space; it was a strong odor, sharp but not unpleasant.  I’d smelled it ever since I first walked into a bicycle shop looking for a Schwinn 10-speed to mark my eighteenth birthday.  In fact, you could go back another ten years, to those visits to the basement at Sears on south Western Avenue.  The bicycles lined up between the toys and sporting goods gave off that same smell, the way car showroom does.

I’ll probably have the bearings in the rear axle repacked, too, although it’s a pain getting the chain in sync with the gear shift.  Maybe by the time I finish wrestling with that devil, the real sun will be out, to warm things up enough for a good bike ride.  Hope, as they say, springs eternal.