It’s now August. And I still don’t have my new bike. This makes me sad. It also makes Keanu sad.
It’s an obscure internet thing, and you probably didn’t get it, but I hope the gentle Rush plug wasn’t lost on you.
Anyway, I will start, as usual, on the topic of Rush. I watched a feature length documentary on them recently, something which I decided I could never speak of. But, this is the internet, so there must be someone worse than me out there. Infact, there’s a few, judging by the film. It was good. I slightly cringed at myself noticing several subtle references. The worst bit was when Jack Black appeared on the screen at different intervals, being an idiot, because, he’s an idiot. Overall, I came, away with more appreciation for it all, feeling slightly motivated even. I wouldn’t recommend the film to anyone though, it’s too niche. And it holds even less appeal to a casual audience than Le Mans, another of my favourite films which I would never subject anyone to.
The only other thing I’ve done with myself lately is cycle around inanely. I get a lot of abuse on my bike. After being bottled from a car, I can now say I’ve been appled from a bridge. Well, there were some teenagers in a shit bit of Cardiff throwing apples from a bridge, aiming at passers by below, and one got me ripe on the head. I don’t like overtaking people much, I don’t care who is faster on a bike, I just want to go my own pace, but not everyone feels this way. I overtook a middle aged man across the barrage. He had an expensive bike though and had to show me. I always cycle past the Welsh Assembly, even though I’m meant to dismount, in a pathetic act of defiance. Later, I get off by the restaurant area, which is often full of awful people. He didn’t do this, and instead passed closely by me, shouting “Mate, your bike is shit!” Lastly, I was chased by about 15 men on mountain bikes as I left St Mary’s Well Bay. It was a bit scary, but I lost them through a housing estate.
The worst thing this summer is not having my new bike. Many, many, MANY weeks ago, I ordered a new single speed bike on the cycle to work scheme. The most frustrating thing about it is the loss of time. At the end of June, I could’ve got together all the parts for a nice bike and waited a week or so. Instead, I’ve waited almost 6 and paid a non-refundable £50 deposit. I would love to know where the Cycle to Work people live. I would cycle for many miles to see them. I can ride quite far now, I regularly waste time cycling 25 miles without stopping, unless it’s to put my chain back on. It’s not even a compromised, hypocritical statement about material goods now, it’s an exercise, in frustration. The one gear it has is just wrong. I spin my legs furiously, hoping to reach 10mph. The frame is so bent now that the rear brake hardly works, and the front one doesn’t work because the wheel is dented. And after cycling a good 100 miles a week for several weeks, the already worn rear tyre in down to the canvas. I’m reluctant to spend any money on it though, because, surely, my new bike will be here tomorrow?! It’s going to be great when the whole contraption falls apart in Penarth town centre over one of the huge potholes and I get run over. I’ll blame the Cycle to Work scheme for being slower than a fucking tectonic plate at sending invoices.
Now, I feel I have no choice but to send them one of my FUCK YOU forms. I keep a bunch of these FUCK YOU forms on my desk, ready for action. Everyone loves some good correspondence. I don’t hand out said FUCK YOU forms casually, you have to be on my list to get one, not my Christmas list, although I don’t have one of those.
When I say the people at the Cycle to Work scheme are special, I follow it with NEEDS. Invoice this, you numpties!
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