My favorite rear blinky was bought a few hours before my bike, two years ago. It’s served me well, despite getting rained on, being dropped and kicked down St. Paul Street on a cold day last winter, falling off in traffic on University Parkway, etc. All you could ask for from a light. Well, the week before last.
Two weeks ago, I was leaving work and crossing the bridge on Charles Street that goes over 83. This is a tricky spot with horn-crazy cab drivers, buses and wanker-weiner-poopheads who insist on parking there, next to the signs that say not to. You know, in addition to drivers flooring it as they get on 83 or otherwise try to get in front of one another before the messy construction on Charles Street. I heard a bump-clatter-bang and knew it had fallen off because I had, once again, not put on it correctly. Out of the corner of my eye, as I approached Lanvale, I saw the grey bubble bouncing and heard crunching repeatedly. I couldn’t stop because, well, I’d get flattened.
I knew it was a goner and got really sad. Er, mad because it fell off from me not connecting it correctly. I cussed a lot on my ride up Charles Street. I was entirely too upset over a light, probably.
A day or so later, I was walking up to Sofi”s to get coffee with a co-worker, and I found this big chunk of my light. It made me feel better.
While we hear of gear failing us, it’s sad when it’s we who fail our gear. Or something.