Author Topic: Reach out

sam

Reach out
« on: January 17, 2022 »
There's a Ma Bell telephone ad jingle surely stored in the wet CPU of most Americans of a certain age. If you've never seen it, prepare yourself for an earworm. Also, trigger alert for those suffering from coulrophobia (fear of clowns is "no laughing matter," as britannica.com was obliged to put it).

You have been duly warned

Isn't that sweet, he's not a sad clown but a happy clown because he attracted a fertile mate. You know what they say, big feet, big [family commercial]
[close]
We all know what happened to the phone. It cut the cord, joined forces with the internet, and took over the world.



I'm not complaining. Browsing on the small screen is putting those of us who specialise in detail work out business, but whadda ya gonna do?

This is taking me further from the subject of today's post than intended, so unless I can tweak a better segue, meet Dave



aka LittleWheelsandBig. Over the weekend he answered my call for help by driving from NW London to exceedingly rural Kipling country with his toolbox and trike. We'll get to the trike presently. First a bit of history.

Dave and I met, so to speak, almost 20 years ago on the pages and forum of Cycling Plus, where he was one of the select few – too few as it turned out – to appreciate a little whimsy. He later settled at NACF's predecessor, where had commenced a gathering in search of a better life, or at least forum.

After reading my tale of woe with my Litespeed a plan evidently formed to put me out of my misery, in a good way, by coming down here.

When the idea was mooted it was difficult to compute. Of course a stranger would be willing to spend a large portion of his Saturday to travel to then try to fix the bike of a stranger. Happens all the time, we just don't hear about it, right?

Being an unrepentent coronaphobe I quickly entered my natural state of worry, despite that he'd be using the operating theatre of the great outdoors. After all, omicron is famously adept at a-leaping, and it is downright unnatural to spend hours with someone and not naturally gravitate ever closer.

It turned out that Dave had just had a test the day before, a regular precaution as his wife is at considerable risk. I could offer no similar assurance, but he knew I'm the careful sort.

We set up in the village parking lot, which besides boasting excellent transport links to the high street enjoys close proximity to all the necessary amenities. There's even a surgery, appropriately enough.

Once he got down to business it was like watching a youtube channel from an expert, except, you know, a hundred times better. He explained everything in considerable detail. I can confidently state that I took it all in, unless there's a quiz. At one point his audience grew to include my neighbour Robin, of reliably good cheer. He had stopped by for a spot of recycling and bikespotting.



Dave confirmed my suspicion that it's the bottom bracket, because despite what people say it's always the bottom bracket. Hopefully thread lock will fix it. He even gave me the thread lock. As you do.

I then took him on a quick tour of a few of Jack's follies. He repaid me with a lesson on his trike; the less said about my proficiency the better, though I'm reasonably confident that left to my own devices I'd be unlikely to come off in front of someone with a phone camera.



All in all it was a splendid day and way to reach out and touch someone, or close enough.