Forget the Hot Tin

I got this. look... Really, I got this. look...panic....I, I, I don't got this! How'd you like to wake to this OUTSIDE your window. ...of your SECOND story bedroom??

It was exactly that. And from what I understand, not exactly catlike. If you saw the pitch of the roof you'd understand. Or simply appreciate that YOUR cat is OUTSIDE your window when it SHOULD be asleep between your feet!

I wasn't there you see, but the girl, and the cat, paint a vivid picture of the morning shenanigans. Let me just say, for the past two nights, the girl has misplaced cats. I leave mine in the closet, she apparently airs them out on the roof.

This morning the girl awoke to quite the clatter, I'm not sure if sugarplums went round in her head, but I guarantee you she was wondering if a mouse were a-stirring. Here we go again with what sounded like rats in the belfry...mind you we don't have a belfry...and we are really hoping we don't have any more rats!

No rats, no mice...this time. But the Ratinator was standing by just in case. This my friends, is a clear high and dry case of a cat on a cool asphalt roof. Are you freaking kidding me? The roof? A cat on the roof? Yes, a cat on the roof. Or rather dangling precariously from all twenty claws a good twenty, okay maybe 35, feet.

 

I mean I've been in the girl's bed, I ain't gonna lie it's worth trying to get into...but scaling a roof, in the middle of the night, sliding into the gutter, clawing your way back up, just to get inside? I'm sorry baby, but it's not all that. After all, I'm afraid of heights and I don't got nine lives.



Testing, Dummy.

So the secret love affair of same sex dating is usually in the closet. No, really. Shoes. Pants. Shirts. The doubling of the actual closet. Not the oft mentioned, proverbial one.

AH...unless...the same sized loves can share bikes. THIS is the true secret appeal of like pairing couples. Doubling your bike cache! Makes buying a bike for your loved one that much easier too.

So since my mountain bike is sojourning in the country I took the next best thing, which turned out to be the single best thing, riding today. Sweet jesus...I mean it's got its imperfections, most notable, it's not mine, but boy is that a nice ride.

She's gonna regret I ever took it out. I mean, really. Do you seriously have any excuse not to kick my ass on this thing each and every day?!? It practically taunts you to ride faster, and stronger, and bolder. The new shock, icing on a non-carvel ice cream cake.

It's beastly. Climbs like a mountain cat. Corners like Parker sneaking up on an unsuspecting Ripley. I'm a little afraid of putting myself in the doghouse so I'm somewhat gentle with it...let's just say I don't ride as hard as it's begging me to. It's like a Porsche stuck in second in beltway traffic. RELEASE THE HOUNDS!

As I said, it has it's quirks. And I wasn't sure what to do about the play I felt in the headset. Do I mention it? Do I wait to see if the girl notices? It was bad. Felt like the hub wanted to explode. But it wasn't the wheel, wasn't the brake. I determined it was either the headset or the brand new fork. Either way I didn't want to know the answer, or the lack of solution.

I was going to let it go. I knew she'd be safe. That's why I was testing it. Not joyriding, testing. But I had to know that she was going to feel safe on the bike, and I knew the looseness going down a rocky hill was NOT going to go over well. And if it's unfixable, hey, I just got myself a new bike because, well, I'm okay with it.

It was a quick, easy tighten. But one can't be sure until it's retested upon the rocky terrain of Patapsco. Don't worry My Darling Dear, I'll test it thoroughly, often, just to ensure your safety each and every ride. AND to avoid any of those quivering excuses claiming she couldn't keep up because of some thing or t'other.