Rides and Razors

Ever since NancyToby experienced the great chain-ring blowout, I've been a bit obsessive about pre-ride checks of The Pol-R Express. That's partly because The Pol-R Express is the exact same make and model (Felt S25) as Buttercup. In part, it's because it is a good practice to give any bike a once over prior to each ride. Mostly, it's because I've had plenty of my own issues with busted chains and flat tires. This morning, I found my first loose bolts.

It appears one cage on my x-wing bottle holder was getting ready to make a break for freedom. The entire cage was wobbly, and required some expert service. Namely, I had to tighten on of the allen bolts holding the receiver bar and reattach the cage. Disaster averted.

Then, in the process of resetting the computer, I somehow wound up in a set up screen. Then, what is usually one circle on the screen became a circle with another incomplete circle around it. "That's different. I vaguely remember seeing something about circles and wheels in the owner's manual as I skimmed through it." After numerous attempts to return to the status quo, it started getting late if I was going to complete my ride. No biggie. The route is exactly 19 miles, and I have a stopwatch. Well, regardless of what the owner's manual tells me those circles mean, I discovered they mean exactly nothing. Computer showed 19 miles even when I returned.

With that mystery at least rendered pointless, I hit the shower. It was getting late, and Friday has turned into leg shaving day. In keeping with the theme of the day, I somehow pulled the entire razor head off the handle while attempting to remove the blade cover. When reattaching the blade, I noticed the high end plastic piece that holds the blade steady had broken.

That's the kind of thing best found out before ever getting into the shower. Or at least prior to lathering up a leg with shaving cream after showering. This was now, however, a "best" kind of day. "No biggie," I thought, "I have one last razor in the closet." Or so I thought. "That's okay, there's the brand new razor kit we found the other day." In the other bathroom.

Oh well, in for a dime, in for a dollar. After all, everyone's asleep. Too bad there was no razor in the other bathroom. I just hauled my naked, wet, shaving creamed self all over the house and had very little to show for it.

After a bit more digging, I did manage to find extra cartridges for the one razor I could find. My wife's razor. And the way I see it, more than one man has had his razor commandeered for use by his wife/girlfriend/some girl he met earlier that morning in a bar to shave their legs. Turnabout is fair play.

Thankfully, the challenges of the morning didn't carry over to the actual task of shaving my legs. Had I been thinking more clearly, I would have heeded the warning signs, and not put sharp blades so close to my legs and more valuable body parts.

The moral of the story? Avoid reading the blogs of people who ride the same bike as you. I'm sure that, somehow, this is all NancyToby's fault.