Life, lemons

Saturday was get shit done day.  I know I'm gonna be short on time soon, so whatever I can do to get ready for the next couple weeks, do it.

I needed to get the Stickel back together.  I'd already stripped it of Zac's parts and put mine back on... loosely.  I also found some identical bottle cages that were in way better shape, so why not take five minutes and mount them?

This is why not:

Stupid weight weenie alloy bolt installed who knows how long ago (yes, with grease) just up and snapped.  A wee bit of it left sticking out above the bottle boss.  Too early to grab a beer, I tried slotting it with a Dremel and using a screwdriver, but as expected, not enough material left to unstick the bolt that's in the frame tight enough to have the head pop off.  We are now out of my wheelhouse.  I am stymied.

A phone call.  A voice mail.  A YouTube video.  A drill... I consider doing bad things on my own.

Jerry the Cat calls.  He's available.  I was not counting on losing time going out and getting this fixed, but my head hurts excessively, and nothing I do will be pleasant until this is no longer burning the front of my brain.

Slow, methodical, calculating, ending the job by making his own thread tap out of a bolt... all while I sit and watch. Slow is fine with me since this is not a disposable frame, and I'm not wearing a hydration pack, in the mood for even more fixes or gonna use a hose clamp.  Happiness achieved.  I head home, along the way, Anthrax comes on my Pandora, and I know balance has been restored in the universe.

Respect the badge and all.

Back at home, finish the Stickel, get the Vertigo Meatplow V.7 ready to relearn a lesson because that's what I do.

Trying the Chronicle again.  Pressure at 10.something PSI.  Fast where it can be.  Gets me into trouble sometimes (what happened to my right shoulder?).  Slow when I have to apply my 108 watts.  Prolly not gonna run it at TSE.  But now I know what I knew is still known.

The remainder of my weekend, invade Zac's workshop and poke and around in his drawers while he upgrades my Club Ride Billy Bob jersey.

Get done there, receive word that the new Faster Mustache kits are in, swing by Kürdt's house and nab mine, and go home to begin the two hour long process of de-sleeving the jersey... which isn't as bad as it sounds when you have squeezy leg bags and decent lighting.

I feel like things are coming together.  Probably just a feels tho.