My bike.

<--I probably won't be buying one of these, by the way. ...

Today was pretty much awesome. Watch that word, awesome: it will show up again later. I got up early (for a day off: 8:45 a.m.) and quickly took a shower, played a few moves in my Facebook Scrabble games, goofed around on the Internet, wrote an email which was a continuation of another message that I may regret later, and got myself all worked up about my new bike, which I planned on driving up to Culver City to buy (there are bike stores in LB, but I have a sentimental attachment to Wheel World, where I have gotten all my bikes, including my dearly departed, beloved red and white ten speed).

I've been thinking about my new bike for awhile. I talked to Patrick about it on Wednesday, and he was okay with the idea of me getting a rather expensive new toy. I've discussed it with my friends Patty and Judy and my co-worker Jesse, and I am obsessed with the idea of my having a new bike. I can't stop thinking about the rides to Seal Beach or here in Long Beach, and in Culver City with Patty, and she wants to maybe do one of those bike tours, and if I can hang with that much time on a bike and how much I want to ride and when, and dude: I actually was thinking about it so much I kind of gave myself an upset stomach.

OK, maybe the bike didn't upset my stomach, but I don't know what else to blame it on, unless you consider the Chipotle steak burrito I had for lunch yesterday (or possibly that damn email). I was excited!

On the drive there, which was surprisingly not as traffic-y as I expected, I made a couple of phone calls (one regarding the aforementioned email), listened to The Veils, Afghan Whigs (I have had their album Up In It for maybe 20 years? I forgot how awesome it is. No. This is not the awesome you are looking for. Move along), and A Tribe Called Quest. I also tried to relax. I'm not sure it worked.

You didn't really need to know what I listened to, but it's these details that make this blog truly interesting. ...Right?

Anyway, I pulled up in front of Wheel World, put my 75 cents in the parking meter and walked up to the door. It was 10:15. They open at 10. The sign said "closed." I looked at the sign, said, under my breath, all crazy like, "What the fuck?" And then I noticed that the door was open. So I went on in.

(Again, more detail than necessary - actually, I think I only put 50 cents in the meter - but really, once you start, you can't stop.)

You know how when you're really super-excited about something, you lose the ability to speak? No? Is it only me (actually... it might be. I was a little tongue-tied and searching for words all week. I swear I think my co-workers thought I was high. I'm not, seriously. This may be sinus-related)? Anyway, I walked in, and saw that there were three young guys behind the counter. Two of them ignored me. One of them, who shall be known as Eric (because that's what he told me his name was, but not until later in the timeline of events that I am about to detail for you. In excruciating detail, yeah), was a young guy, maybe in his mid to late twenties. Tall. Brown hair. Scruffy but not in an off-putting way. Cute. I don't know, maybe I've hit that age where all guys in their twenties are kind of cute. It's possible.

Eric waved at me, and I walked over to him, and commenced The Great Bicycle Purchase of 2009.

These are the first words out of my mouth: "I um, hi, I was here to look for a bike?"

Yeah, that's fucked up.

The thing that worked out so perfectly was the pairing of me with this particular guy. Eric as Salesman and me as Customer: we were the perfect pair. We were a match made in heaven, because as silly as I was (I was like this crazy combination of excited, nervous and self-deprecating), he was almost right there with me (except he was young and cute, and so for him, it was more like a sweet performance of youth. For me it might be pathetic and old, but let's move on, shall we?). One of the first things he asked me to do was be patient, because he had to use the computer that was being used by his co-worker at the moment because he "has a tendency to crash the other one, just by breathing on it." Come on. If that's not adorable, I don't know what is. So we waited. While we waited, I told him what I wanted, or what I thought I wanted. So he took me over to the rows of bikes, and pulled out a Giant for me to try out for size, and to keep me occupied while he did the thing with the computer.

When you try out bikes at Wheel World, they make you fill out a form certifying that you won't sue them if you get injured, and you have to give them a credit card and your driver license. I joked, is this all so I won't sue you, leave with the bike or get hit by a car? Eric (still didn't know his name at this point) looked at me very seriously said, "Please don't do any of those things." I gave him my keys and said, Hey, if I don't come back, you can have my car.

He said, thanks, but I don't drive anymore.

Then, since I was handing this guy my whole life (wallet, keys, flute bag), I asked him his name. Once I knew his name, I proceeded to use it every chance I got. I don't know why. I just like calling people I just met by their names.

Eric walked outside with me and showed me how to use the 21st century shifters. I asked him about the brakes (my 10 speed had hand brakes on that top part of the handlebars, and this one didn't). He explained that you can get them added on, but that for this one, I'd have to use the ones that were placed on the lower part of the handlebars. And then he goes, "you know, when you're feeling 'race-y.'" Because, you know, you have to get all aerodynamic to use that part of the handlebars. Jesus Christ that was adorable, because I don't think he was thinking of the definition of the word "racy." He had that LA guy lazy delivery when he talked, and he spoke either very slowly when saying few words, or in quick, low bursts. Usually he was fast when he was funny, and slow when he was serious. There's no way he was flirting with me, but it might be at this point that he realized that I would be a pretty pliable customer.

Anyway, I got it, then waited until he went back inside before heading off, northbound on Sepulveda, on the sidewalk. I rode it around the block a couple of times (thank God Tito's wasn't busy or I could've been hit.)

I hated it.

Now it is entirely possible that all I hated about it was the color (teal. Teal and white. Hideous). But also, I felt weird on that bike. Eric sized me up before I got on, and he set the seat height for me and asked me how I felt, sitting there in the store, and it seemed okay, but I knew this wasn't the bike for me.

I walked it back into the store, and told Eric I didn't like it. We discussed the Allez, the bike I had gone in specifically to see, and he pulled one down for me, but it was a hair too big (literally, a hair. I asked him what the difference between the sizes is, and he said "about 2 centimeters." I thought he was pulling my leg. Apparently he was not. He could've, though. I would've gone for it. And if he did it right, I might've been tall enough for the bigger bike). We talked some more about the Allez, and he went back to his nemesis, the computer, and looked at their inventory.

They had one in my size, but not assembled. In fact, it was in a crate somewhere in the back. It was a red one. Pretty, but too flashy for me. We talked about short people for awhile, and his lack of sleep, and something else kinda personal about him that I shouldn't reveal here (I was surprised he told me, actually), and bikes with straight handlebars (he likes them, I don't), and red bikes versus black bikes (we both prefer black bikes) and though I knew I was taking up a lot of his time (I'd been there for about an hour and a half by this point, asking questions, trying different bike), I also knew I'd make it worth his while, so I didn't feel rushed.

In fact, I still felt pretty stoked - I was getting my bike! Finally, I figured out exactly what I wanted, and Eric ordered my bike.

The one I'm getting is very similar to the one I showed a photo of yesterday, except mine will be black with some subtle (?) flashes of red. It should be ready for me to pick up sometime next week. Hopefully by Friday, because that's the next time I'll be down there (actually, Thursday, but not sure if I'll have time), with time on my hands for a ride.

Then we went around the store and picked out all the other stuff I wanted: helmet (can you believe I've never had a helmet? Also? I've never been in an accident on a bike, and I guess I've been really, really lucky, because a lot of people, including Eric, have told me how a helmet saved their life), lock, those brake things, a light. The only thing I didn't get was a bell! Damn! Anyway, Eric was looking out for me, because he didn't pick out things for me that were super expensive (when we were looking at helmets, he said, "I have a black one for you that will be awesome!" and he was right. It was awesome. In fact, I'm wearing it now).

He said the same thing when I was looking at lights (my neighborhood is so quiet and safe that I feel totally safe at night, except that I know people can't see me. Or maybe because I know people can't see me. anyway, it seemed like a good idea). Eric picked out the "awesomest" one for me. By this point we were laughing at things being "awesome" and "race-y." And I did get a cool light.

Seriously. I think I need to interact with more people. I may be Eric's newest, biggest fan. I wonder if he's on Facebook?

All in all, it was a satisfying purchase. I might exchange the bike lock for another one - the one I got, while definitely one of the smaller ones available, is kinda heavy, and I don't think I want to be dragging that thing around with me everywhere.

Now all I have to do is count the days until I can pick up my bike.

Until then, my head will be fully protected. I should've bought a helmet years ago.