13 November 2006

Wretches

I’ve no idea why tools should scare anyone. Around here, though, a mere Allen wrench -- in my hand -- is cause for mutiny.

"Mom, Dad’s got your bike discombobulated!"

Now isn’t that what we called squealing squealers back somewhere then?

So I’ve taken the wheel off -- off my wife’s bike (god forbid I did that to my little Piglet) -- and there seems to be cause for alarm.

"Mom, you won’t be riding this weekend."

That was my daughter (little “$%&%$!!!). But my son comes to the rescue. "You’re not riding for sure, Mom!"

Little &"·!;%$&%”!!! Why bring them to the world? Why love them? You can say goodbye to that ivy league community college edu on my account, little squealing b...bikers!

Ok. I can’t couldn’t true the wheel…and now it’s like some sort of round snake, sinuous thing, biting its own tale. It’s still round, though, for God’s sake!

Wrenches.

4 comments:

Ruby said...

But at least you took it apart. Some people that I know can't do that. As for the kids, smile, grin and tell them to wait till they get older.

A.R.B. said...

I don’t know, Ruby. Although I’m not very good with tools I did manage to fix my boy’s flat sometime ago – though I had to take the tube into the tub – you know, for bubbles. I’ll get their respect…for my tool abilities, that is…someday.

Shawn Kielty said...

We all use the tub for the bubbles -- where else would you do it?

Alberto said...

Well, Shawn, when I was a kid I did my fair share of patches on that red hot Orbea. Maybe it was all in the eye sight but we used to blow up the tube and feel it against our cheeks and then dabble a little spit – pardon me – and we’d check the little hole. Youth.