Those with a modicum of common sense – which frankly excludes the readers of this blog and, of course, it’s author – would have reconciled the omen of “pants on the desk at home, willy unencombered in the office?” with a zero tolerance response to anything difficult or challenging on this particular day.
But no. Of course I didn’t. I had a handful of bike parts, a half baked idea and the remainder of my lunch hour. Sadly not really enough bike to fit them to due to the little known “theory of Rush Hour?. Rush Hour is a kids game where a grid of toy cars block the hero’s (rather modest) sedan from making a quick exit. Only by understanding fourth dimensional phase space and the theories of quantum can one progress to the higher levels. This was pretty similar to the problem my already frazzled brain attempts to solve.
Replace truck, van, car, motorcycle with crud guard, lock, light and bottle cage. There was clearly some Fibonacci sequence by which component karma could be achieved but just as clearly, I’m too stupid to understand what this is.
After much lateral thinking tending towards whether wheels were really necessary on a bicycle, my patience snapped and I chucked away the rear crud guard. This left me with just the rear light, bottle cage and lock on the “grid?” But if we extend the metaphor back to Rush Hour, the only way our hero’s car could have left the board was with a personal missile launcher and an alternative view of the highway code.
A sidebar here: my rationale for installing a portable lock was driven purely by an intensely frustrated five minutes Kryptonite hunting at Marylebone, while the engine of my train revved to depart. My motives were good – lock the bike wherever you can find a space – but were let down by shitty execution. Yet having bought the lock, (in fact this is the second time I tried this, the first time involved a short conversation with my wife in which I advocated purchasing yet another frame because this one couldn’t accommodate a lock. Yes kids, I really tried that) I was determined to fit it even if I had to sell my soul to gain access the fourth dimension mentioned previously.
So after much grunting spannerwork, I’ve removed the need to find my lock. I have however created the need to find a dry arse. Also the lock is so massive that it obscures my rear light so there’s a good chance I’ll be wearing a delivery van before the winter is out but on balance – I’m sure you’ll agree – a worthwhile upgrade.