My friend, and our circle’s resident bike guru, decided to host a “let’s teach you ladies how to fix your bikes so you’ll stop asking me to fix it for you” get-together. At first we females were a little unsure of this venture, but his promise of fresh peach pie after the lesson cemented our attendance.
The day of the lesson, Bike Guru and us three gals crowded together in his living room, amid a forest of preexisting bikes, bike parts and bike tools. Following Bike Guru’s careful instruction, the girls gingerly, but sufficiently, dismantled our bikes.
Somewhere between learning that our bikes have nipples and that the vulcanizing he referenced had nothing to do with Leonard Nimoy, Bike Guru was notably affected by the aggregate estrogen that had collected in the room.
Me: “You really dig working on bikes, don’t you?”
Bike Guru: “Most of the time… but they’re a lot like women. Expensive and high-maintenance.”
Me: “Funny, because I think of bikes as a lot like men. I don’t understand how they work, and I look for some other sucker to take care of the upkeep so that I can just ride them without any real responsibility of ownership.”
Bike Guru laughed, then noted that from today forward he would no longer be my “sucker”.
After our tire tubes were patched, our brake cables tightened, our gears aligned and our chains oiled, there was one thing both sexes could agree on:
“A little lube makes everything better.”
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