Justice

There's justice in this world, it just sometimes happens through jokes. I've recently made friends with the expert mechanic at a bike shop that I enjoy frequenting. He and I sit around, talk shop, he tosses me spare parts and expert advice. He's a really great guy and a veteran cyclist, and I enjoy our little conversations when they happen. Last time I saw him I was collecting the pieces necessary to rebuild my wheel. L was with me, and we started talking about our plan to build her a road bike around one of my old sub-par hubs. My friend the mechanic (we'll call him Malcom) digs around through one of his hundreds of parts-drawers and pulls out a pretty nice quality sealed-bearing rear hub and hands it to her. "Here," he says. "Merry Christmas."

So today I go to him to shoot the shit, ask him about rebuilding the VGt, and just say hello. L comes up in the course of conversation and I bring him up to speed. Malcom stops a beat after I tell him, as though trying to figure out something very difficult, and then goes, "A Triathlete?! He'll never have time for her!"

Justice comes into play again, in that tomorrow, I am picking up a free bicycle frame. It's an old Peugeot, probably a low-end paperweight, but I have this nice set of wheels that was a Christmas gift to L. She left them here because she couldn't fly home with them. Do I get them back to her somehow? Or do I bolt them to the Peugeot? Right now they're under my bed and make a terrible noise any time the bed shakes. I'd like to do *something* with them.