Growing pairs...

I wish I truly had a pair. A golden opportunity showed its delightful, glittery face to me today.

I got a bike for free yesterday, but it needed work. So I run to the free bike cooperative at McGill University to look about fixing up my fixer-upper.

I get there and sign in. The volunteer on duty is a little awkward, but I'm one to talk. What with my outward, outgoing personality, I sequester his aid. He helps me and at first seemed to know EVERYTHING. Then, slowly but surely it became evident that he knew lots, but was filling in the blanks as he went. But that's perfect at a do-it-yourself bike cooperative. He gets you started and you get handy and fix your stuff yourself, because the blanks always far outnumber the stuff empirical evidence can support.

The best part, folks... the ladies! They come in droves and they're all hot. And the best part, they're all using tools and have greasy hands and are fixing the hell out of their bikes. Damn, they're so hot. One had an amazing tattoo of musical notes on the back of her hand. Another must've been about 6'2". Then there's the girl from the Scooby Doo cartoons. Well, she shares a name with a character from the Scooby Doo cartoons.

Right, so I notice her working on something. She's there just trying to wrench her heart out, but the bolt isn't budging. I know exactly what that's like. Sometimes elbow grease just does not cut it. So I suggest to her my favorite mechanic's pastime; the cheater rod. That's when you throw a longer bar over your ratchet/wrench and pull! It usually double the amount of torque you apply, depending on the length and in no time we were twisting bolts like no tomorrow on her bike. Thing was, it wasn't benefiting. Nothing was coming apart. Turns out, we were wrenching to the right. "Righty tighty, lefty loosey." Mr. Awkward said I'm wrong, so I go about my business. Scooby Doo comes back over and we exchange quick notes. Turns out, Mr. Awkward was wrong. But I was already too embarrassed to assert myself anymore in that place. I'd already broken the chain on my bike with a half broken tool. Then I broke the tool that broke my bike (accidents). And that was the only such bike chain remove clamp doohickey in the place.

So I opted to courteously remove myself from the premises before being killed. THEN! Ohhhhhh, then... Then the Scooby Doo girl informs me that I owe her a hug upon my departure. Me, sans a pair, was too shy/embarrassed and what have you to get her number. Ouch.