Back. Back hurts. Secret weapon not kicking in.

I spent yesterday afternoon cleaning up that 25$ rusty thing that if you squinted and were feeling kind, you could call a bicycle. Three hours. Three hours of applying chrome cleaner with a toothbrush, and scrubbing as hard as I could with a scrubby sponge. Being there as a task is slowly accomplished doesn�t have the same power as seeing it �before� and �after�, as my husband did when he walked in at the end of the day. �Hey!� he said. �That�s terrific! I didn�t think you�d get it that clean!�

Get it that clean? There�s still rust all over it! Okay, so the chain doesn�t flake any more when you touch it, you can see the rims again, and the fenders only have a few dull spots, but it�s still a mess. Just not as much of a mess as before. I wouldn�t be embarrassed to be seen with it in public, now.

I will, however, be embarrassed after coming to a sudden stop if I don�t get the back brake calibrated correctly. Front brake � fine. Back brake � not fine. It’s still stiff, although I’ve tried everything I can remember about brakes. A sudden stop on my head would be bad. Even though I still have a helmet (around somewhere). I�ll walk it over to the gas station down the road this afternoon and fill the tyres to see if they actually hold air. Maybe I�ll try to ride it back. Slowly.