I exit the bright outdoors to the shadowy, musty shop. The heat remains constant. It is mid summer in the sunny southwest; heat is just a part of it. Echo, our metal stead, stands lame against a metal table. Charley is wrestling plants and fencing out on our new property perimeter. I can do this by myself.
Grabbing Echo's handlebar halter, I latch it into place and cinch it tight. Echo's nose will now remain steady as I hoist the long tandem onto our makeshift bicycle tuning stand. I lift the front end up and over the first bar, careful not to scratch the precious protective paint. With the back of the bicycle now in place, I am ready to work. I nervously grab the paper with tuning directions, compliments of Bicycling Magazine (www.bicycling.com).
My hands wear a glove of grease as I follow instructions, but miss a point. The shifting works but remains tight. Rereading the instructions, I notice the cable should be detached. I go get Charley, rather rescue him from his battle of fencing and plants. He enters the shop, helps illuminate my darken cove, opens a nearby window and turns on a ceiling fan which circulates hot air. Sweat cools my skin as the new breeze brushes against it. He's ready to by my assistant and shift the gears on the opposite end of this very long bicycle.
Frustration arises when the followed instructions cease to work. Cable frays and bites my thumb. Disappointment. I failed this time, but I will beat you!
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