Little Things

I hate it when my brakes squeal. Who doesn’t?

But I routinely let it annoy me longer than I realize I could stand once I finally decide to fix it.

And sometimes, like today, all it takes is an Allen wrench to one brakepad for a couple seconds.

So then, after the searing sound goes away, I still have that feeling about clenching the levers for some time, until I don’t and I’m able to breathe again.

Or a rattling front light: all it takes is a twist of the widget. On the tandem, getting the cranks back in phase and turning the eccentric. I also basketted the triple, after customizing the bracket as Mimi had suggested (Mimi’s note: when did I say “customize the bracket”? Uh, yeah. Never. I think I said, “that looks stupid.”)

It doesn’t take much, really, to satisfy: a mowed lawn, a vacuumed bedroom, a well-rolled cigarette.

I missed the opportunity to be out on Thursday night this week, so I did some minor simulation on my early Saturday evening, capped off by Alex Kostlenik’s never-before-seen Nirvana video, in which you could see how prophetic the young Kurt Cobain was already.

Now, I get to sit on the couch in my living room, listening to my child play the piano, staring at my ruined thumbnails and imagining that they hold the departed spirits of my mom and dad, although I can’t really tell which one is which.

And all this in the wake of planning for the time trial; today I rode up two of the hills I want to include and realized that three may be enough, especially if I add a short fourth.

It also became obvious to me that I need to include a 7/11, since those are both prime, too.

All these little things make big differences; when the tiny details are attended to, the overall result you’ll notice twenty years from now gets taken care of itself.