Because I am a procrastinator (it is known), and also because it's been a weirdly snow-free winter so far and I could get away with it, my winter bike, Mike the Specialized HardRock, is currently hoisted on a borrowed repair stand in my living room with his brake-tendons ripped out and new ones waiting to be put in. Unfortunately, I discovered that I need one particular little part, the dongle thing that creates the V-pull, for his front brakes. So, for the sake of five inches of cable and a little joint thingy, I was caught, this morning, by the first proper snowstorm of the year, with only my summer bike (Long John, the lanky and laconic ProFlex).
I considered taking the bus, when I woke up and couldn't make out the windows of the apartment building down the street. I got ready, listening to the terrible-sounding traffic reports on CBC, looking out the window occasionally, certain that I was going to take the bus. I packed a book to read while I was on the bus. I got bus change out of the jar.
Then, just as I was about to leave, I thought, "No, I don't wanna take the bus!"
So I didn't.
Skinny tires and softtail suspension and dodgy, prone-to-freezing derailleur and all, I took the summer bike.
I took the sidewalk on Bank between the Diocesan Centre and Riverdale because I value safety, and peace, and serenity, and because people in cars are not to be trusted ever, much less during the first snow.
And in all, it took me about 50 minutes to cover the 9.5 or so kilometres to work (a trip that usually takes about 30-35): I averaged about 11.5 km/h, according to my trusty Strava, and Long John really stepped up. I'm proud of him.
Which isn't to say that I shouldn't probably buy that little dongle and get Mike back on the road, with actual studded tires. ASAP. But for a summer bike, John didn't do half bad.