Fat Fingers

I was telling a friend how therapeutic some things can be. Fishing, gardening, knitting, and other leisurely activities, mundane or otherwise.

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For myself, I indulge in two - practicing the organ and tinkering with bicycles.

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I recently got myself into a fix. Three Bridgestones, one Litespeed, one 700C bike, a Cannondale frame which I know not what to do with, and a great variety of parts and pieces, all waiting to be assembled.

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Walk into my bunk and you will be greeted with a sweet, sickly smell of grease, WD-40, Singer oil, Copaslip, thinner and paint. Add to that the faint odour of mosquito repellant and it will be sure to wrinkle your nose. In other words, my bunk looks, feels, and smells like a bike shop. All it needs is a rotating barber sign outside and a hanging plaque that says "OPEN".

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In the last two weeks, I visited over ten shops, met nearly as many buyers and sellers, and added vastly to my collection of parts and servicing tips. I also met an old uncle whose Titus bicycle was fitted with a four-hundred-and-fifty-dollar Brooks saddle. Now I’ve heard of some very expensive saddles, but four-hundred-and-fifty dollars. That’s really a bit much! But it sure as hell looked like it was worth every dollar.

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E v e r y    s i n g l e    d o l l a r .

Taking ninety minutes to get from Toa Payoh to Boon Lay is bad enough.

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Yesterday, it took me ninety minutes to get from Toa Payoh to Kampong Bahru. Amazing.  Incredible.   Ridiculous.

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Five minutes to wait for the feeder bus. Fifteen minutes to get from Lorong 8 to the terminus. Ten minutes to wait for the 143. And one hour to get to my destination.

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Taking the MRT would hardly have been quicker - after all, I still would have to wait for a bus at Harbourfront.

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Absolutely ridiculous.