From the land of recreational cycling, of occasional joy rides through the sunny warm fuzzy beautiful landscapes. Where bike maintenance and repair was a labor of love, done proactively. With no time constraints. With music in the background With a beer in my hand. With a smile on my face.
To the land of messengerville, bike riding every single day through the gritty grimy rainy ugly streets of the city. Where bike repairs are reactions to parts falling apart, disintegrating, completely failing. Maintenance becomes field medicine. And repairs are done triage style. Tolerance for “issues” with my bike has gone way up. Ignorance isn’t really bliss, but it makes for a less stressful day. Turn up the iPod and ignore that creaking. Continue to go with the assumption that the source of that rattling is the paper clip some joker put in my seat tube and not a cracked locknut on my rear hub.
It’s not quite right, but it aint broke and the last thing I want to do after work is fix it.
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