Acting on Impulse

In case you haven't noticed (and who could blame you if you hadn't?), I seem to have an eensy problem with impulse control.

Today I bought a bicycle from a co-worker who is moving to Spain with his wife next month. I guess it would be worse if I just decided I was moving to Spain next month, but no, he had an ad on the break room bulletin board and I decided just like that, I wanted it.

I have just spent an hour trying to fix my bike rack onto my car. I am filthy. I need a long shower.

While I was working on this bike rack business, I kept cursing my impulsiveness. What on earth is the matter with me? I have a perfectly good bike in the garden shed. Why do I not want to ride it anymore? Why?

Well. Let's see. The bike was purchased on March 3, 1991. I remember the day because it was Xman's birthday and he had dragged me all over Orlando in a manic shopping spree which included his'n'her bikes. His obsession with going out and running around all day kept me from the one thing on my mind - my wonderful cat, Scarlett, was in the animal hospital, dying.

When finally he let me get back to the vet's office, it was late in the day. I bounced in, asking about my kitty. The nurse's face fell. "Oh. Let me get the doctor." And I started bawling right away. Immediately. And it went on for hours. Loudly.

I can't remember what exactly had happened - liver failure, I think. They handed me to her and I got in the car, holding her, crying the whole way home, crying as her grave was dug, crying as I gently laid her on a pillow of blankets and buried her as I once did all my cats - with two pennies, a bowl of food, a toy, and something of mine the cat had loved. In Scarlett's case, it was my extremely ratty old bath robe.

Meanwhile, Xman discretely put the bikes in the garage.

He rode his maybe twice. When my Taurus was in the shop for months at a time (no exaggeration), I used my bike to go grocery shopping, to go to the library, to run all kinds of errands. Even now, I use it for the occasional trip to the library.

As I was struggling to get it on the rack to make sure the rack was sturdy, I noticed the foam-y covering on the handlebars is going. The gears have never worked right, which makes riding even on the smoothest surface a bit of an adventure. The mounting of the two retarded-looking baskets on the back is falling off the bike. And most of all, sometimes when I get on the bike, I remember that day.

But mostly, it's because Xman bought it for me. That's why I want it out.

Plus I do the math and it doesn't seem like such a horrible thing for me to do - the bike is 17 years old! It should be out of high school by now.

Maybe it wasn't such an impulsive thing after all. Maybe this has been lurking in the back of my mind for some time and I finally saw my chance.

Anyway, if the bike rack doesn't work, I'll just take off the front wheel and hope for the best.

A new bike! Woo hoo!