15 July 2008

On the way to Hermitage (i.e. Being a Hermit . . .)

I have discovered that I have a genetic defect when it comes to transportation. It runs in the family. I often speak of a family curse, which limits reliable cars in our family of 5+ drivers to one.

I put the kickstand down on the bike I ride for the first time yesterday. Then I couldn't put it back up. I kicked and kicked and hurt my foot, which was wearing a sandal, but no success. So then, I started wrestling with the kickstand. By the end, my hair was tousled and my hands and legs were streaked with bike tire dirt--but no success. I figured I would need a wrench to remove the kickstand. I bent the metal up as much as possible with all the force I could muster and rode my bike to campus, kickstand down, in all its glory (avoiding grinding on all sharp corners or tall curves as much as possible).

And I wonder why I get strange looks from people nearly every time I ride my bike? Well, that's obvious. Something like this happens. Every. Single. Time.

Apparently my former (and future) roommate Amy was not aware of my inherent difficulties when it comes to transportation, so she innocently left me her car for the summer while she frolics and traipses in Guatemala for the summer (viewing the likes of San Pedro, pictured below). I said I would store it for her and use it on occasion, if the need arose. On the recommendation of my roommates who have coveted condo parking garage spots, I e-mailed the landlord about getting parking in the garage myself, and she told me I could have spot 52. So I moved the car there, but I failed to get a permit before that. It had been parked on the street. Since I hardly ever drive it, how was I to know that there was a boot on it since the 5th, and they towed it on the 7th? I didn't find out until I tried to drive it a few days later, went to the garage, and it wasn't there. I guess I should have realized that I needed a permit to be in the garage, regardless of whether my spot was designated by the landlord, since the parking enforcement is done by a contracted agency, University Parking Enforcement. But I went and paid the $150 for those money-suckers to open the dumb gate. And now all is well.

Well . . . I don't know about that. I am considering just staying inside from now on. Since I can't handle cars, or bikes, I am worried that eventually I am going to kill myself by walking too. So I am going to cut travel out of my life entirely. I will subsist as a hermit. This could solve a lot of other problems, as well.


rachel b. said...

Oh man, I could never get the kickstand to work either! Jeff showed me how, though--there's a little black lever thing right next to the kickstand that you have to push to get it to go back up. You do seem to have poor luck with transportation, though, and I'm very sorry about that. If it makes you feel any better, I totally biffed it on the stairs the other day on my way back up from getting the mail. There were like 4 people on the other side of the street, too. I fell all the way down to my hands and knees and then rolled onto the grass. Quite embarrassing.

Bakes. said...

ok, i promise to read this post later, i dont really have time now...but i wanted to tell you that your host daddy called me. it was the most awkward thing ever.

Blog Archive