MAJs gay bikes [she’s in her fitness era]

today was the day I was dreading to be honest. not only did I have to build my bike, but I had to ride it too. Two things I had not really done since this thread hit its crescendo last October or so.

Never the less, as 8:30 rolled around I pulled myself out of bed to approach the kitchen where I was offered espresso and some sourdough by tijmen as we awaited belas arrival. I’m not usually a morning person, I mean, I wake up early as previously discussed, but I’m not a morning person. I don’t eat breakfast and often times if someone speaks to me before 10 I grunt or nod, but something about being on holiday and free from the treadmill of holiday changes all this for me. As if I’m free to live my life of collecting rocks, running in the sea and eating berries.

Someone should look into that? Has anyone? How work and our economic conditions changes the way we see the world? Not sure, please report back if so.

regardless, it was 10 or later before we got the bags out, which some might gawk at but I would remind anyone who does that doing so is a personal and moral failure.Riding bikes isn’t about miles covered, it’s about taking time to discuss which neurodivergent tendencies each other is self diagnosed with over beans on toast while avoiding going out into the cold.

There is however only so much dsm5 to regurgitate before you have to lift a torque wrench.

“30 minutes?” Was one prediction from the group, tijjy ran calculations to see how much of his dilapidated bike he could resuscitate in the time it would take me and bela to build our croissant chariots.

Mudguards? Lofty
Fix his brakes? No chance
New saddle and peddles? Maybe

I set off checking if Ryan air had destroyed my bike, but be it luck or @ameys boutique bike bag they hadn’t. unfortunate really as it was insured to the hilt and seeing the task that laid before me I was debating if I would prefer a fat insurance Cheque to cash or a bike ride round industrial saxony if given the choice.

Maybe it was luck, or maybe in 150 pages I have learned something about bikes because for all my self flagellating doomer malaise the bike just slotted together. Wheels went on, mech attached, seatpost went up. From the lack of disappointed sighs I heard from bela i could hear his was going fine too. Tijjys However? Something about non greased bolts? Standing on pedals? Stripped crank????? It sounded like hell, personally I would have binned it at this point but he pushed through bravely and proudly presented a bike which looked marginally safer.

Nice

The only real problem we had was that mine and belas rear brake pads were squealing, this irritated both of us but I tried to get us to ignore it and get on with the day. it was irking bela more however, muttering how he wanted to buy some new ones. I walked out off by this point manifesting mine would just stop and hoping he’d forget about it.

The next thing I knew was the reassurance of hope free hub clicks as we drifted down a wide German street. We had a short ride through to the southside for coffee. the weather wasn’t inspiring but it wasn’t punishing either which made those first cautious pedals back on the bike more enjoyable. That combined with the rather wide, flat German cycle paths and modern road layouts which meant you could glide around town mostly unbothered by the cars. A world away from the overstimulating mess of green lanes which I attribute to my hesitancy to ride back home. Really a reminder of what planned infrastructure can achieve

The coffee was good, I thought it would be as the person looked like they had pronouns and they were the only one in the building. That and they said it would be a while in a tone that told me “you people look like you waste your lives in shops like this often, real recognise real”. They were right of course, the other hint was them asking us how we found the drinks and if we had notes. We didn’t of course, manhattan beans pulled by someone I’d swipe year to on Feeld, it was good, they knew it and I was happy to glaze them.

Back in the street, this time for food, a swift pootle to a tex mex vegan spot for a burrito which was delicious but quickly reminded me I cannot eat onions. Riaz noted it was good, but tasted distinctly German. We rationalised this was due to it tasting strongly of paprika, being a little sweet and having no spice to it, tailored to its market rather than to its name sake. No one comes to Germany for the food that’s for sure.

Other than the allium induced bloating I was feeling shockingly light on the bike, wanting to press on, asking our local guide to seek us out more adventures and people watching opportunities.

Bahn mi?

Not now , as I was inflating by the minute, but for dinner. Pulling up at a bakery which was the “hip spot for bread” in the area. Tijmen, as noted previously, makes incredibly good bread so for him to praise it was an exciting. The excitement only increased when we arrived to be greeted by a queue which looked somewhere between a young parent’s meeting and the local queer goths, two discerning bread demographics. I stood back at this point to grab some photos but I was informed by the two lads that there was nail biting tension as they saw the baguettes dwindle before there eyes as the queue progressed, if we arrived any later it would have been Bahn-not-for-mi.

The next stop was a quick spin round the corner to the book shop, I’m not usually a book shop person but I did appreciate this ones layout. You walk in and you’re presented with babies first feminist theory, then as you walk round you’re into structural feminism, feminism in work, feminism in relationships, progressing what I believe would be your friends annoying boyfriends nightmare. You’d get post colonial feminism, race and feminism, gender and feminism, trans and feminism. The shop laid out so you could start visiting to pick up something about why it’s ok to wear trousers and if you visited enough times over a few years you’d walk out with pronouns, a sweet haircut and a polycule. I picked up a zine about queer artists in Leipzig and another about a black musicians experience cruising in the American south, both were great reads.

It’s at this point the squealing brakes had damaged belas psyche too much and he insisted going to the shops to buy some new ones, asking tijjy lead us to the big box store. I offered to wait outside and stand on my phone as the determined consumer and his translator entered what looked like a bike shop designed for people who go to centre parks and those who love to buy the latest road bike. To stand outside was doing me a favour.

It wasn’t long before they were out and bela professed “said they didn’t stock vintage components”

I chuckled

“They’re only three or four generations old” bela cried in disbelief

“Pretty much retro bike fodder now mate” I chirp in,

before tijjjy reminds us that shimano is making abs brakes so we’re not far off that being reality

Haunting

The only thing which would distract us from this and the honking was some soft serve at this lovely place which matches my bike. Tijjy informed us that he and his partner like to visit here on the cold days as it really cheers the guy up. No joke here, just a nice anecdote about a cute couple and a charming seeming shop owner I wanted to squeeze in

By this time, after many stops, in the single digits of kilometres we thought it time to return home after our adventures. Unwind, go to the rewe, pour a weird soft drink or German beer and discuss if one can be biologically adverse to winning and how all men’s motivation in life can be traced back to chasing the tactile high of stimming on an analog dial; whether they know it or not.

Tomorrow we go to the forest?

Maybe there will be more cycling but we’ve all been in this thread long enough to know that’s unlikely.