Kick in the rear, Part II

Woke up in a wonderful mood Monday morning to find this on my doorstep. Not the Audi—some middle-aged moron no doubt wields it daily between here and his cubicle, struggling to pay his car bills—no, the shitmobile locked to the tree, which is now missing its rear wheel thanks to some other shithead, who stole a broken wheel off the back of a bicycle that hardly rides at the best of times. Why didn't he steal my basket? At least it works. The back wheel, on the other hand, was wobbly, missing a couple of spokes, and prone to fall off on occasion...but it served. Just the week before, in fact, I had been riding to work when the same rear wheel suddenly fell off. It was the first time this had happened in 6 months and I took it in stride. I'd just put it back on on Thursday, which, for a technically challenged bastard (literally) like me, is no mean feat. Not to mention that it was a real pain in the ass...

That bike cost me 50euros. I got it from Alan, the director at my school, and he's going to buy it back from me when I go for 40euros. Well, it's going to cost me 45euros now to replace the fucking wheel, which really rubs me the wrong way, especially considering that a brand new bike only costs 100, but, it's in my interest to fix the fucker and get back on the seat, since the repair basically pays for itself when I sell it back to the big guy.

Incidentally, I'm not bitter (I'm just fucking angry!): what really fucking pissed me off was precisely that I was in such a good mood, even after I walked past my crippled bike and continued on to work resignedly on foot. It was only when I realized how much it was going to cost me that I really got pissed off, I was actually grudgingly content this afternoon as I carried the bike on my shoulder the kilometre to the shop, until I recieved the second half of the second kick in the face of the week.
Ride on.

O.