I hope your new Years’ dreams are coming true. I went for a nice walk around the Jewish Cemetery taking photos, and a beautiful Dinner with “the girls” at La Flor, which you’ve got to try. I started to use my 2012 calendar, and am excited for the new year (though it is an arbitrary marker). I really enjoyed reading the haikus and poems that I had written on my blackberry and started to migrate over to the iPhone. There are some really interesting Haiku Strings that I want to share. But here is the latest (it started here, and was last published here).
“Garbage,” Croak grumbled, the smile contrasting with his assessment. “We gotta get you a better bike to work on and a good one to race on.”
“Este bicilacleta la Senora me compro,” he said slipping back into Spanish because of Croak’s tan skin “funciona adecuadamente.”
“Yeah it works OK, but you need to get better and you can’t as long as you’re outperforming your bike” he said animatedly as they remounted their bikes and rode back towards the restaurant.
Kiko wondered how his funny little hat stayed atop his head. When he got back he went right into work and gave the money to Sra Choi saying a perfunctory “bien entonces” to Croak as locked up and he walked in. Croak rode on with a nod of his capped head and a crisp salute from the upturned peak.
Later in the day at another delivery (Monte Cristo, deep fried sandwich) Croak was there with a dull silver derailer that was all curves and shine. “While you go in I’m gonna put this on your bike, it won’t take but diez minutios” his Spanish as bad as Sra Choi’s.
“But I need to go back, now it is the time for french fries to 13th floor at 120 Water street,” he explained knowing that this was a good regular order with a commensurate tip.
Croak kneeled down and got right to work ignoring Kiko’s plea. He pulled a tool out of his back pocket and started removing the cheap chinese derailer that hadn’t worked without extra twists of the shifter since it was a week old.
When Kiko emerged from the skyscraper Croak was putting a socket wrench under the logo on his bag-flap and pulling out a three pointed allen key to adjust the new component. Holding the rear wheel of the bike off the ground by the chainstay he tinkered with the gunmetal derailer and cable. Before he was done veins were snaking across his wiry bicep like a science fiction movie, pulsing and dancing.
When Kiko got on his bike shifted like it never had. Croak rode along side of him, hat perched like a pirate’s parrot, explaining the nuances of shifting in the pack: “and if you’re riding up on someone too quickly in the pack upshift and rest a little before you cut out in front.”
But, as best I can tell, here is where I am up to in Kiko. If anyone’s interested in reading the master draft I will consider posting it on a separate blog all alone. Teej on Twitter and ELO and Lovina in the comments section all gave me important help. Please weigh in so that I can keep this going and finish this 1st draft of my 2nd bike story (did I tell you I found the incomplete Bike mystery?).