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Cold turkey

We all agree 2020 was a weird year, hard to top for strangeness. 2021 nudged me in the ribs and said “hold my beer”.

Right at the outset, I got notified I had a health problem. It is fixable, and fixing it is non-negotiable. The fixing is a complicated and fairly extreme procedure that requires a long period of doing not much else.
As luck would have it, the closer collaboration with the shop here in Rotorua means Nzo is able to charge along well without my constant presence. 

What isn’t happening is bike riding. This is already the longest dry spell since the shoulder dislocation of 2010. Even the rebuilt collarbone of 2014 only kept me off the bike for about 10 weeks. This bout looks like it might be longer than that. It’s already been a solid month and a half and I am just about halfway through the treatment. Apparently there will be a bit of downtime afterwards. Remember what summer holidays looked when you were a kid? Long beyond comprehension? That’s what this feels like, only not exactly a holiday.

Bike riding the way I do it is a pointless and self-serving activity of little consequence. I fettled a bike I thought I would pedal around on between treatments, but I was dreaming. It lurks In the barn, where I check on it and its colleagues every weekend. With the certain knowledge that bike riding is off the menu, you’d think that I would be able to put it on the back burner and concentrate on loftier things. 
To my amazement, the longer life goes on with no bike riding, the more I think about bikes, and riding them. 

To E, or not to E, that’s the first question. If an electric moped is my future, what model, and when would I use it? Now that I know I can take weeks off work I won’t postpone that bike packing trip I have been putting off for the last 8 years - where to, and when? Which bike? What cockpit set-up? And that old classic that goes well but has shabby paint. I should really have a crack at painting a bike. But it deserves better - maybe I should get it done properly. And more or less accurately. I know it’s a ‘93, but which paint job?

It’s ridiculous, but I mull over whether I should go tubeless on the fat road bike. And even consider, once I have decided to do it, dropping it into the shop for the procedure. 

It can wait, of course. And so can I. 



 

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