(Forgive the cross-post.)

But I don’t have a photo yet. This photo is of a pipe-cleaner bike I made at my VISTA training in August. It stands on the jacket dealy from a cup of coffee I was drinking at the time. It resides in my office.

I picked the Novara Buzz V for a number of reasons. It’s simple and practical. I like the low-fi looks and anti-theft aspects like locking skewers and no quick-release anything. It has custom fenders. It’s STEEL. It was in the price range of the insurance money I got for the wrecked bike. I really, therefore, paid for it in September 2005 when I bought my first bike, which was replaced with insurance money when it got stolen in fall 2006. The insurance folks paid for the lights, fenders, rack, computer, etc. Everything that got destroyed but my helmet. I was buying a new helmet anyway, so I didn’t want to go after them for that.

The biggest “fault” I’ve noticed so far is that the paint is junk. It’s matte and flakes off. Mine has several chips already from the trip from the factory to REI, and the one locked near the train station looks like it’s been through a wood chipper. I suppose this is to make it less steal-able? Or just a consequence of the matte finish? I feel like I should be annoyed that my shiny new bike is not perfect (or shiny). But you can’t get a perfect bike. I know that for sure now. And bikes get scratched up when you ride them. Even if you got a perfect bike, it would eventually get dinged up if you rode it. I was being stupid, yes. Thing is, you don’t care when you’re riding regularly. I’m not.

But screw it. I refuse to be a prisoner of my own neurotic and compulsive tendencies. I always need all my shit to be perfect. Forever. Like you can buy perfectly-crafted goods. And like you can use them without wear and tear. Nah, if I resist the urge to be a stupid jackass, I feel particularly…invited to put some stickers on now. I still have some that my cycling pal sent me in 2005 when I first got into cycling. It’s all good. In a few weeks, I’ll be riding my bike and laughing at the witty stickers on it.

We did have a bit of an adventure to get it, though.

Tuesday, I had an early appointment with my hand doctor and a big meeting all afternoon. It was already a weird day. I wanted REI to leave my bike in the box so that I would not be tempted to ride before I’m physically ready and get hurt again. But they couldn’t, and it came in Tuesday, rather than Friday. Our glasses were also ready early. So I walked from near Penn Station to Charles Village after work, met the Mrs., walked to the Rotunda, got our glasses and walked to the light rail. Took it out to Timonium, walked to Baja Fresh and ate amidst sad yuppies. Walked to REI. Picked up my bike, some spare inner tubes and an under-the-seat bag. Walked to the light rail and took my bike on it. Walked about a mile home. So my bike’s first trip was on a train and being walked. Not as cool as being ridden, but much cooler than coming home in a car or truck.

Memorable night, though. And I would be a douchebag to let such a fun-ly-gotten bike be less awesome because it wasn’t perfect when perfection wasn’t even possible.

Perhaps by airing these stupid mind-f*cks I play on myself, I can kick them?