I can fix that

A few weeks ago, Ms. Muse came by after she had put in a full day working at USC. 

My Culver City house is about 5 miles directly west of the campus, the equivalent of a one hour drive in Los Angeles. Nevertheless she came by because it gives us enough time to bike down the Ballona Creek Path, see the ocean, and still get back before darkness sets in and the Mar Vista Gang kids reclaim their territory.

As we were returning home and navigating the broken cement path I heard a distressing POP! Sure enough, that sound was followed by an unmistakable hissing. Followed by...

"Awww, fuck!"

Flat tires on a road bike are never fun. Flat tires on a road bike made in the 2020's, with all the electronics, hydraulics, paper thin rims and Gator Skin tires that seem to be hermitically sealed with Gorilla glue, are even less fun. 

As we were only 2 miles from my house, I debated walking the rest of the way home. Then the testosterone kicked in.

I checked my handy dandy under-the-seat bag and found I had two tubes, a CO2 cartridge and the heavy duty plastic forceps needed to separate the tire from the rim. 

Long story, mercifully shortened, after a couple stops and starts, I was able to get the bike up and running again. And it got me thinking.

Because as of late I've been doing a lot of repairs, that have long been unattended, around the house. Around my vacation rental. And even some at the house of Ms. Muse. 

I didn't take any courses in Gerontology while going to Syracuse University, but I'm of the belief that this current fascination is not uncommon among men of a certain age -- mine. In fact, if I can indulge in a little introspection, I believe it's tied to youthful vitality. 

Like the old guy who can't stand the idea of his car keys being taken away, I'm holding on for dear life. Holding onto my resourcefulness. My independence. And my stubborn belief that I can fix this or that or the other thing. Despite my mechanical disinclination. My sore back. And my girthy fingers, which make it impossible to work an Allen Wrench in tight places.

To be frank, there's something very satisfying about having the wherewithal and the determination, to successfully complete a task. I would expound on this but there's a knock at my door. It's the appliance repairman to replace the failing burner ignition whoseywahatsits on my obscenely expensive Wolf Gourmet Range.

An old, older, man has to know his limits.