Minefield Mountain Biking

Whilst I was in the civilized world I spent an inordinate amount of time debating whether or not I should bring a bicycle back with me. On the one hand I was getting tubby and needed something enjoyable to do to keep myself fit, sane and able to see a little bit of my surroundings, on the other there was the real prospect of laying out serious dough to get the bike, get it there and then have it lost or stolen. I knew it would be key to getting my head back on straight, even so, it required a team effort to make Clinton Kelly Cannondale's acquisition a reality. I test road a lot of bicycles, I went to a lot of bike shops. A lot of bike shops. Bike shops in 4 states. 4 states.
I have found that I have become somewhat obsessed with seeking out and locking in the best value for dollar these last few years and this only added fuel to my OCD bike related fire. Plane tickets, hotels, bikes, whatever it might be I will get what I want for the right price.

The problem that develops with an obsessive type with 'discerning' taste in bicycles who goes shopping for them is that you're never satisfied that you've found the deal and coupled with the modicum of guilt about spending money that might be better used on paying off that IKEA credit card, or one of the many other debts you have and the prospect of heavy extra bagagge fees piled on by the various airlines I'd be flying, you end up so paralyzed with indecisiveness that you must be talked into doing what you clearly knew you wanted to do when you set out.

After 3 weeks of vascilating between brands, shops and states (sales tax is an important element to consider when seeking out value for dollar!) at literally the 11th hour (it was 11 am on April 27th, 7 hours and 5 minutes before my flight, I received one of the three final signs I needed to proceed; the midtown shop would match the price of the shop in Washington Heights ( I was willing to pay the higher sales tax at the right pricepoint)! I was moving in for the kill. We hustled on over to Manhattan and on the way over I was reminded my birthday was nigh. Sign two. When we arrived at the shop I was asked what I wanted for my birthday and that was the third sign. She was going to feed the beast, the old Cannondale F5 was coming home with me a right fantastic birthday present. On checkout a slight problem developed; the bike hand been built up over the weekend and they would not match the price as I had been told on the phone. Oy. Panic sets in, sweating, wavering, but fortunately I had support and an executive decision was made on my behalf. I was taking a bike back with me, we'd wait it out and the 50 extra clams wouldn't get in the way. It was now just shy of 2pm. 2 hours from when the type of individual who is in charge of ridding the landscape of an impovrished nation of the explosive remnants of war should be at the airport. They needed and hour pack the bike. It would be ready at 3. It was. We traversed manhattan rather quickly all things looked good, no delay on the Queensboro bridge, smooth smooth until just about back to Greenpoint when someone decided they needed to ply the toxic waters of Newtown creek and the drawbridge on the Pulaski Bridge went up and stayed up for an eternity.

Gathered the belongings and left for the airport at 3:50pm, for those keeping track, a scant 10 minutes from that commonly accepted 2 hour window for international flights.

My compliments to the Northside cab driver, he threaded us through some interesting neighborhoods and got me to JFK at 4:55pm. Line was short at check in, thought that was a good sign for an empty flight, but that didn't end up being the case, but that's another story!

The world's most unpleasant person was waiting there as I threaded my bike box through the ropes deftly. "You're late." My curt reply; "Thank you for stating the obvious, am I going to get on or what?". Swiss, if you're reading, you need to can that grumpy lady's derierre. Regardless of how much kvetching was going on around her, the 'tude was unecessary and she was dishing it out to everyone.

Fortunately my time with her was limited because the line was moving swiftly and I ended up with this cat who made me rearrange and consolidate my belongings so he could avoid charging me the exorbitent bike as bagagge fee! He did me a solid alright. He did take a rather long time to process me and it was still a tad uncertain if I was going to make it. I certainly wouldn't have objected to an extra night, but that might not have sat too well with the employers.

I made, just so and not without running into cruella again who was of course ready with her editorial comments about passangers who needed gate seat assignments.

Clinton was lucky he was left behind in New York, he didn't have to put up with the scene on board the leg to Zurich.

Swiss did well to reunite us only a day later. Clinton Kelly Cannondale was brought to me by an armed escort. It ain't dubbed Nairobbery for no reason.

It's been fun riding around on the alternatingly dusty and muddy roads of South Sudan. I road the old F5 to the mech team training site the other day and will do so a couple of times this week too. It's not a real minefield, not to say I might not ride to the real clearance site one day, it's certainly a more comfortable method of transportation that aged Landcruiser!