If you can’t see the smile of satisfaction broadly navigating my face as I write tonight’s blog, you never will.  When it’s bike related and daughter related, I can’t help myself.

My daughter is about to head back to college to begin her sophomore journey.  This Tuesday I get to pack up her stuff, drive four hours, then unpack it.  There is both joy and sadness in that adventure — joy from watching my little girl take another baby step towards that woman she is becoming, and sadness from watching my little girl take another baby step towards that woman she is becoming.  Doggone it if that double edged sword isn’t slicing my heart in two.

Yes, I am still smiling.


I had the privilege of spending the afternoon and a bit of this evening prepping her campus cruiser for another year.  Cables, housings, and basket were replaced.  The seven speed derailleur was cleaned and adjusted.  Somehow every creak and squeak was eliminated, proven by a quiet test ride around the block (and again and again… the fat tired rocking chair is kind of fun to ride).  Amazed at the success of the tune up as well as the appearance of the cruiser when finished, I had to take pictures.  This bike sat outside a dormitory an entire school year, including snow and rain.  When I started on the bike earlier this summer, I was not surprised that the shift and rear brake cables were seized.  I was surprised at how well the bike bounced back.  The seven speed Shimano shifter worked flawlessly once it was cleaned, greased, and the cable/housing replaced.

Yes, this bike nerd is definitely smiling.

On a sadder yet triumphant note, the first Craigslist visitor to see my old Bianchi bicycle bought her.  He tried to hide his smile, but I saw the same excitement in his eyes that I had when I first saw her.  This is someone who will appreciate my old bike.  There was a bit of disappointment as I think he thought that the wheels on the bike would be good enough to ride.  I was real honest, told him that the wheels look good but have always been trash, put the bike up on a workstand to give them a spin and let him listen to the horrid bearings in the wheel.  There is no denying the beauty of that Bianchi, though, and he couldn’t resist, even as he made one weak plea for a a better price as he dug the asking price money out of his pocket.  He paid the asking price.

He did ask me if my titanium Serotta was for sale.  Nope, nope, and again I say nope.