I bought a new bike

I bought a new bike. It's a piece of shit.
I got it off of Craigslist for $10.
It was posted for $40.
I arrived at the seller's apartment this morning at 7:30.
She was outside beside her new shiny bike tinkering with the old piece-of-crap bike.
I kind of wanted to snatch her cool new bike before she knew what happened. But I'm not that kind of girl and the dog isn't so good at riding doubles.

"Hi!" I said.

She was crouching down. Her thong was six inches out of her pants. Her entire butt was basically exposed.
Too much crack for 7:30.

Anyway, I looked at the bike.
It was obviously crappy. Old. Well-ridden. Rusty. Ripped seat.

Should I actually purchase this piece-of-crap bike, I thought to myself, it would build character (plus some serious quad muscles!). I mean, it's no secret: I like my "stuff" new. And I like it expensive. And I buy things on instinct, not really on value for my money, prior research, etc.

Some may recall the 1992 Plymouth Sundance (another infamous piece of crap in my life) that I bought solely because it was blue. When the tranny dropped six months later, dad's face had "I told you so" written all over it. Sadly, rightfully so.

But I digress. This piece of crap purchase shows how my buying habits have matured.
Let me break it down:

1. I Immediately recognized that the bike was a piece of crap.
Example of improved purchasing maturity: 10 years ago, I thought the Sundance was a super car.

2. I also immediately started asking questions about small things I was noticing (low seat, stripped bolt, rusty handle bars, quirky gears, flat tire).
Example of improved purchasing maturity: 10 years ago, dad asked me to ask the salesman questions. I didn't. I mean, the car was blue. I wanted a blue car. Case closed, right?

3. I recognized, after my stealth recognizance, that the bike was indeed a piece of crap and that I would have to put a few dollars into it to restore it to a less piece-of-crap state. Which meant, there was no way I was paying 40 bucks!
Example of improved purchasing maturity: 10 years ago, even after dad mentioned the possible crappiness of the car and the need to wheel n' deal, I stood my ground firmly and paid the FULL asking price for that hunk o' junk.

So, I am the proud owner of a crappy bike that cost me next to nothing.
And, should I succeed in fixing it up (or paying someone more handy than I to do so), I will consider this wee purchasing adventure a huge success!

Now, for some of you that already know that I own an insanely expensive racing bike, let me explain why this pice-of-crap purchase makes sense: My Specialized Allez Comp is my baby. It is too good for riding to the market and picking up groceries. One small pebble could send me into a tizzie. And the parts are crazy expensive to replace. It's a racing bike and a racing bike only. It's like china in the cabinet in the dining room. Reserved for special occasions.

And, with my little Hyundai guzzling $80 in gas just for a 60L fill up and with the environment on a downward spiral into utter chaos, the least I can do is buy a $20 piece-of-crap bike and have a fun time riding it for all my daily errands!
(Assuming, of course, that I fix the seat and pump up the tire!)
Else it'll just stay locked to the railing on the back porch, like another metaphorical Plymouth Sundance.

Happy riding!

Capilano River

Just across the Lion's gate bridge on the North Shore is Capilano River Park. There are 26 kilometers of well-groomed trails through old growth forests, a man-made dam, and a salmon hatchery. I had explored the famed Capilano Canyon a few times before, teetering on the suspension bridge high above the river, but had never ventured onto any of the trails below.

Last Friday, with nary a cloud to be seen and 24-degree weather, Paul, our pal Mike, and I decided it was a perfect day to play hookey and to see what these trails were all about.

As with all of our hikes, we had a moment of insecurity at first -- there are 26kms of trails, yes, but we didn't know which one to take. Some of them looped. Some of them went on and on and on and never came back. We had 2 hours to kill before a Sushi Date with another pal so we were eager to have fun and not get lost (for once).

Our first loop was a short kilometre-long trail that ended up at a lookout onto the dam-created falls. It was wet. it was cold. It was breathtaking.


We marched back to our starting point and took another trail that gained substantial elevation. Before we new it, we were above the river at Capilano lake and looking down over the falls below. It was devastatingly beautiful. We paused, took it all in, carried forth.


Next stop: the Salmon Hatchery. We worked out way back down in elevation via a windy path, ridden with gnarly tree roots and breaks of sunshine through the canopy. At the bottom was a Salmon Hatchery with thousands upon thousands of Pacific, Chinook, and Wild Red salmon ... from minnow stage to just before release. The Hatchery releases approximately 600,000 salmon into our water system every year, to ensure a healthy population of fish to hunt, eat, and admire in our lakes and oceans. An admirable feat.


Eventually, we found our way back to the car, and our mini exploration of just a few of Capilano River's trails was prematurely over. (After all, there was sushi to be had! We couldn't be late!)

Beamer was sufficiently exhausted, and the boys were sufficiently sweaty. I got my fill of nature for the day. (And my fill of sushi later!)

Ah... summer in BC. Let the fun times begin!

1 girl + 1 boy + 2 cats + 1 neurotic greyhound = hilarity of the very best kind

After years of seeking adventure outdoors and across the country, adventure showed up at my doorstep. In the form of my boyfriend and his two cats, who moved in with me and my crazy greyhound in May.

There were plenty of naysayers (ourselves included), who were cautiously optimistic, but more often dreadfully pessimistic about the possibility of successfully merging our two lives and three pets together in a 1,000-square-foot apartment.

We pawned the dog off on a friend so that when the kitties arrived after a long flight, they could explore the house dog-free.
They were a little rattled, but quickly took to their new home. ... sniffing, scratching, rolling, purring, and leaving their hair everywhere.

"They like it here" said Paul.

"I'm going to get the dog," I replied.

We both shrugged our shoulders and exchanged grimaces.

As I walked Beamer home, we (I) talked extensively. "Listen," I said. "I'm sorry. You're not going to be happy. The house is different now. More people. More animals. Please forgive me. I'll buy you some treats. Whatever you want. Please don't hate me."

After the 5 block walk home, I was pretty much groveling at the poor dog's lanky paws.

"Ready?" I asked through the apartment door to Paul who replied with trepidation "I guess."

I clutched Beamer's leash tight, having seen her growl and run after many an outdoor cat.

I opened the door.
"I'm sorry" I whispered to her.

We came in.

Iris and Myra, her new sisters, were perched on the couch. Their eyes met. The cats sized up the dog. The dog sized up the cats. Then Beamer went to her bed, sighed dramatically (if she could speak, I believe what she meant to say was "what the heck is going on here, Kim?"), and lay down.

Myra sought asylum under the bed.
Iris backed herself into a corner and growled.

At least no one lost a limb.

And then, something miraculous happened.
Over the next few hours, the cats slowly came out of hiding and became more and more bold with approaching the dog. Each time, Paul and I held our breath. ("Someone's going to lose an eye. I know it" said Paul)
And each time, our furry companions surprised us with their general comfort and disinterest in each other.

In fact, by day 2 the five of us piled onto the bed for "group nap".
Here is a picture of Iris and Beamer sleeping with Paul.

Of course, although we are overwhlemingly surprised by the uneventfulness of their meeting, our pets have certainly managed to instill chaos in other aspects. For instance:

1.
Feeding time is nuts. When I call the cats to eat, I say "Come here, kitties."
They come. Then Beamer comes (because she knows "come here".) then the cats stop in their tracks, not wanting to eat near the dog.
So I shoo Beamer away and say "not you. the cats."
"Ok, it's fine kitties, come on" i say when the dog is settled in her bed.
And they come.
And so does Beamer.
"No wait, not you, the cats!"

Paul looks on from the other room laughing.
The dog, cats, and me are all standing, looking confused, wondering how the heck this eating thing is going to go down.
Finally, after 5 back and forth "Come heres" and "No, waits!", I give in, put the cat food in the bedroom, corral the cats, and close the door.

I fell on to the couch exhausted.

2.
My workout pants will never be black again.
I went to bootcamp this morning, and during the morning run warm-up, a friend in class said, "Hey! Paul moved in didn't he? How'd it go?"
I proceeded to tell her a few funny stories and generally how much laughing we've been doing.
Then, as I edged in front of her on a hill, she shouted ahead: "So does Paul have cats or something?"
I looked back, and gasped out "yah. why?"
"Because your ass is so hairy the cat might actually be on it!"

Remind me to pick up some pet hair rollers!

So the adventure at home continues.
And the outdoor adventures will soon too.
The weather is looking more like summer, the mountain snow is melting, and it's time to get my hairy butt (ha!) into the great outdoors!