I went to Winner's Edge today to purchase a bell for the boy. After he had a play with the Air Zound that arrived on Friday (more on that in an upcoming post) he decided his 2009 Trek Jet 12 needed a bell. I walked through the doors just about noon and before my eyes lay a walkway paved in Trek boxes. My heart leapt with excitement and its palpitations all but chacha’ed me across the showroom floor. This had to be the shipment of Treks that contained my mine; stevedore industrial action and all. Could one of these boxes contain the object of my impassioned desire? Was the end to the long gruelling wait finally in sight? If so, would I have my 2012 Trek 7.5 FX Disc this afternoon? I was brimming, no, cresting with anticipation. I composed myself. The store owner informed me that he would call me when the bike arrived. There was no call. Could it be that this shipment did not contain my sweat fed mechanical stallion?
Me: “Hi, Greg. Have a look at this horn I’d like you to put on the bike.”
Greg: “Oh, let me have a look.”
I proceeded to demonstrate with a deafening 110 decibel blast from the Air Zound.
Greg: “That will get some attention.”
I pause a while to allow him space to confirm the presence or absence of my Trek.
Me: “Can you add a bottle cage to the frame.”
Greg: “Sure, what colour would you like? They are all alloy so there are no issues with rust.”
He suggested a grey one that would match the frame of the Trek. I also added a Clean Bottle. I've read that the 15 inch frame only has room for one water bottle cage. I'll definitely need water so I relegated the pressure bottle of the Air Zound to a triangle frame bag. I paused again.
Now I'm thinking; “Why won’t he tell me if my bike is here? What is this dude’s deal? Why is he doing this to me?” Just last week a co-worker of mine called him up and asked him tons of questions about the bike and its delivery on my behalf. She was a little upset that when I had my derrière measured for a bike seat it turned out that in spite of my generous ... marbling ... that I required a narrower seat than her. This was surprising considering she is, what most consider, healthily on the lean side. Ok, perhaps I should mention that a minute part of it could be attributed to that when I discovered this she was with me in the shop and I may have exclaimed with a smidgeon of glee, “So that means your butt is bigger than mine!” There were some visibly strained restrained bouts of laughter from the 5 or so attendants and customers in the store. Also, there could have been some recounting of the story to the team back at the office; perhaps the floor; or maybe one or two floors in addition. However, I still feel her response was disproportionately extreme. I'm certain you'll agree. Therefore, as not to seem too needy after that ordeal I've been giving Winner's Edge space to do its job of securing and building my Trek. Although, I have been finding reasons to visit at a pace of about twice a week. A pair of cycling shoes here, a pair of mountain bike shorts there, and so on. All the while keeping a keen eye out for bike boxes on the shop floor. Once, I did see a few Cannondales with a mountain Trek included.
Me: “After my son heard this he decided he wanted a bell on his bike.”
Greg: “We have some nice ones for him.”
He leads me to a rack and offers a bell. I take it. The pausing repeats without satisfaction. Eventually I leave with the bell and some electrolyte tablets for the water bottle. I'm upset with myself. Partly because I didn't get the information I wanted and partly because I've used up too many visit tokens. I was so excited at the prospect of hearing about my Trek that I used up three visits in one; the bottle and cage, the boy's bell, and the electrolyte tablets. How could I possibly concentrate today?
Back at the office I explain my ordeal to
Big Bottom my co-worker who helped me with the seat measuring. She is actually good friends with the crew at Winner's Edge as she rides on their cycling team. I plead with her to go on a covert mission to collect some intelligence. She refuses but does offer to make another call. I decline the offer. What to do?
She eventually returns from lunch and quietly mentions that my Trek is on the build rack at that very moment in the store not a couple of Bermuda city blocks to the East. Words cannot convey the absolute piercing joy that consumed me. Nevertheless, I shall say that it was equivalent to a child's first realisation that Santa had indeed visited their home in the still of the night and deposited a mountain of golden wrapped, red ribboned wishes under their tree.
But I've no camera! The wife and boy are coming into town to see Spy Kids: 4 All The Time In The World. Its about 2PM, it starts at 2:30, she'll be in driving into the City at any moment. I call. Some minutes later I'm on the curbside collecting the camera and then off to Winner's Edge.
And here she is:
I fumbled about the build area making a slight nuisance of myself by snapping photos and <cringe> offering advice on the attachment of the Air Zound. In hindsight perhaps this was not the best thing to do but I just could not help myself. Perhaps Greg, with his years experience dealing with enthusiastic customers, could tell that I would be the helpful sort. Could this be the reason he refrained from calling me the instant the Trek box landed on the showroom floor? In any rate, it was here and I could touch it. It was amazing to look at. An exceptionally beautiful fitness commuter. My first. I knew then that no matter how many Treks come my way over the years that this ... this will be the one that started it all.
Me: "So Greg, when should I come back to pick it up."
Greg: "I'll call you."
Once back at the office I show my haul to anyone who asks; and a couple that don't. It was a modern day equivalent of the carousel slide projector assault. Except that there was no dinner on offer to mitigate the marathon narration that accompanied each slide. I proclaimed to all that I would receive my Trek that afternoon. I even told my trainer that we should aim to finish early so that I have time to collect my Trek before the shop closed at 6PM. I was ecstatic. How could I possibly concentrate today?
Training is complete. I call up to another co-worker. Surely they have called by now. Its not good. Apparently, Greg has messaged the seat co-worker to say that the bike will not be ready today. Something or the other about the bike computer was mentioned as the cause of the delay. Tomorrow for certain. Not today. I'm thinking that this is a joke. This is pay-back for being blessed with the physiology that dictates I require a narrower seat in spite of cursory evidence to the contrary. I politely express that if she is in cahoots with seat co-worker that there will be some unpleasantness. She doesn't budge. This cannot be! I asked him when I'd be getting it and he clearly said that I'd have it tod- ... no ... wait.
The human mind is a strange and wondrous organ. It collects tons of data, converts it into information, and stores it for retrieval. Colours, algorithms, names, places, smells; on and on. But is also has this curious feature called perception. Instantly I recalled that he said, "I'll call you", but my mind had perceived this as, "You're gonna get it today." The sense was so strong that I fear had there been more time between these events that I may have completely forgotten what Greg actually said and only retained the perception.
Needless to say, I don't have my Trek. I'm disappointed but what is a man to do? I took the time to reorganise my cycling outfit in a desk drawer and discard some packaging. The wait is on again. I'm not a religious man but I do recall that it is written "... weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning"(Psalm 30:5, KJV). Not to worry, we will be together soon.
Thanks for reading,