Bad Choices, Part One

I always pick the best days to bike. Here’s the transcript of my IM with a cow orker this morning:

mdahmus: so today’s trip in was hellacious. first it starts drizzling hard RIGHT AFTER JEANNE LEAVES WITH MY CAR.
mdahmus: then I get to north loop and lamar and the bike won’t go.
mdahmus: I pull over and fuck with the brakes and make them very loose; still no go.
mdahmus: then I realized the back wheel had gone out of alignment and was rubbing on the bar.
mdahmus: so I try to fix the brakes back up and realize I can’t do it without pliers (can’t hold on to the little fuckity fuck fuck wire because too wet and greasy)
mdahmus: so I rode the rest of the way in with no back brakes; making the trip down far west JUST FANTABULOUS!
mdahmus: actually got passed by Guy on 2222 at 360; longest trip in ever. fuckin’ old brakes. AND YOU WONDER WHY MORE PEOPLE DON’T BIKE, MISTER SMARMY BIKE SHOP FUCKWAD.
mdahmus: that’s me angry.

The “smarmy bike shop fuckwad” refers to the helpful people at my no longer favorite bike shop (one I haven’t gone to in quite a while now) who failed to do anything about the “I can’t maintain my fuckin’ brakes because they’re such a pain in the ass; even though I’m already carrying around a wrench for the few brake things I can maintain” situation the last time I had the bike in because they couldn’t get the right parts, but “don’t worry, dude, they’re fine”.

How well do you think a car would sell if every time it got a flat tire and you put the doughnut on, you had to redo your brakes? NOT VERY FUCKING WELL I THINK!