Double- You, Tea, Eff*

A few warm days in a row, plus an article in the local paper, has prompted people to dig their bikes out of the barn where they have comfortably resided for the past 5 years, (on average) and bring them to the shop for me to perform some sort of black magic/ voodoo ritual on them in which the bike magically changes from Wal- Mart POS into something that Lance Armstrong would be proud to ride around the neighborhood. Formerly weak, squealing brakes should be powerful and silent. Chains should run silently and gear shifts should be smooth and precise. The layer of dust and bird shit that formerly encrusted the entire machine, obscuring the name and model of the bike should be absent, and in their place, a showroom shine just like the bikes for sale on the shop floor.


People: be realistic. If you bring me your twenty year old Huffy for a tune- up, you're getting back your twenty year old Huffy minus some dirt; cables that move, brake pads that aren't hard as granite and oh, yeah, a bill for about $120. That's dollars. Do I need to mention to you that thing didn't cost that much new?

Today started off with a phone call and a simple question. "How much for a tire and brakes for a bike? " There is not a simple answer to this question, and I am never quite sure how to explain to someone who cannot comprehend that there is more than one price for those items, let alone type of tire and brake system specific to each type of bike, what that costs. Plus tax.


So I asked them to find out what type of bike it was and call me back. Ten minutes later, I got that call. "Are you the one I talked to?" was the response to my greeting, as if I've talked to no one else today, or any day. I decided I must be, since I was the only one there. "Yes" I said to the anonymous voice on the phone. "Yeah that bike is a Pacific... What? (I can hear yelling in the background) ... She tells me the model, but I don't need to hear it. "Yes, but what TYPE of bike is it?" I ask, annoyed. I find out it is a mountain bike, and let her know that tires are about $18 and tubes are $4 for that type of bike. When she asks me if we can work on it while she waits, I let her know that that we don't usually do that, but if it just needs a tire, then we might. She tells me she will bring it in later today. I try to contain my enthusiasm.


*Note to future customers: I cannot see you, or identify you in any way over the phone. PLEASE, at least tell me what you called about last time or give me a name or SOMETHING. Or at least don't get pissed when I don't know who the hell you are or what you are calling about--- because we've NEVER MET!*


When she brings the bike in later on, Matt checks her in and I hear him informing her that it needs a full tune- up, due to the amount of non- functioning parts on the bike. I try not to laugh when she asks if we can do it right now, and Matt tells her absolutely not. I'm not surprised when, after she leaves, Matt wheels a dirty, department store special around the counter, complete with bar- ends pointing towards the rider, and a suspension fork installed backwards.


Next, I get a call from a guy who claims to have just gotten a bike stolen. I think for a second that he's going to tell me some info about the bike, in case we recover it, but he tells me he would like to purchase a new bike. The man on the phone is not very well spoken, but that's not out of the ordinary, and besides, he wants to buy a bike. "Not one of those Wal- mart bikes" he says. (Right on Brother! Now you're talking!) "So what type of bike would you like?" I ask, to get things moving. He tells me he had "One of them Giant bikes" and so I am left to assume his former conveyance was a hybrid. Or maybe a mountain bike. Or a cruiser. Or... He then tells me that he has a whopping $300 to spend. (OK! hybrid it is then!) I informed him that we currently have some models on sale for $299. (Yeah, that's over $300 with tax, but this guy's not thinking about that) He tells me that he may be by later to look at them.


Later in the day, Matt took a call from a man offering $50 if we would drive to a town located about 20 minutes south of us to pick him up so he could look at bikes. Also, he was 5' 11", so he would need an extra- large frame- did we have those in stock? Matt told him he probably only needed a large frame size, and that he couldn't give rides today: he was the only one in the shop at the time. Little did I know that the drunk I talked to on the phone was the same guy calling for the ride. About two hours later, he showed up, smelling like a brewery and leaving me to sell him something while Matt hid in the back. He apparently had talked someone into driving him to the shop.


Knowing that this man had a DUI, just had his bike stolen, needed the bike for transportation (to and from the bar?) and just payed someone $50 dollars for a 40 minute car ride, I thought there was no way this guy was leaving the shop without a bike, I just had to find the right one. His replacement bike turned out to be a 17" Cannondale (Large?) that he spotted in the used bike row in the front of the shop. He asked me the price, which was $320, and promptly stated he would give me $300. CASH. As if that made a difference. When I agreed, we made our way back to the sales counter, where he laid out three crisp hundred- dollar bills, in such a flourish that I had to remind myself that I have, in fact, seen hundred- dollar bills before in my life. A few times.


This was too easy. I had to push it a little further. "How about a lock for that new bike so it doesn't disappear like the last one?" I told him. For some reason the quote "a fool and his money are easily parted" kept rattling around in my head, but this actually was a mutually positive suggestion. He agreed, and I grabbed a cable lock off the wall. The total purchase came to just over $320, but he handed me another hundred. I wasn't sure that the drawer contained enough for change, and a quick look confirmed this. I informed him that I didn't have change, and did he have anything smaller? A couple of minutes of hunting in his pockets produced the necessary $22 dollars and the deal was done! I handed him a shiny quarter back in change, to which he queried " Could you break this hundred?; Just give me two fifties" I daydreamed for a second how blissful it would be if I, too, were an ignorant drunk, but quickly snapped back to reality. "I... don't... have... change for a hundred" I explained to him slowly, partially due to staggering disbelief and partially so he would understand me.


In the future, I may tell you about the woman that came in late today who we ordered a single- speed beach cruiser for, so she could race triathlons, and then decided that it was too heavy for her to lift onto a car rack, but I'm afraid that only bike- shop personnel are equipped to handle such large amounts of idiocy in a single day. And I don't want to endanger my readers mental health. Like mine is. On a daily basis.

*WTF