This weekend, before Arizona and I took off for a mountain
biking adventure, he raised the seat on my bike, Fang, by a quarter inch.
Now, I ride with my seat very low, preferring to keep my
center of gravity close to the ground in the wake of a couple of gnarly crashes.
But the low seat robs me of some leverage on the uphills, so we wanted to
experiment. Arizona has a “dropper” seat post, which means that he can adjust
its height on the fly using a handlebar-mounted switch. Although he has offered
to get me one, I have enough trouble simultaneously working the gears and
brakes that I invariably picture a James Bond-like ejection seat moment, likely with
a thorn bush involved. So, a quarter inch it was.
That doesn’t sound like much, does it? But danged if I
didn’t feel like a basketball player riding a giraffe whilst trying to play
polo as I careened along the trail, totally discombobulated by the small
change. It reminded me of each time Arizona has upgraded me to a new bike, or
back when I was a kid and outgrew an old faithful and switched to my next Big
Kid bike. Same with horses or saddles. Occasionally computers.
Each time, I’m all excited for the new-bigger-better
version, and anticipate showing it off. But when I actually get on it for the
first time, instead of the total pop-a-wheelie coolness I was picturing, I feel
like I grew an inch overnight and have no clue where my appendages think
they’re going. And I long for my old bike/pony/saddle/whatever, where I felt
like I knew what I was doing.
I think that happens in other parts of life, too—with new
jobs, new relationships, and definitely with new hobbies. The good news is
that, just as I found by the end of our ride that I was climbing in a higher
gear and starting to regain my balance, that anticipated pop-a-wheelie
brilliance can show up after a bit of a burn-in period after an upgrade,
whether it be a piece of equipment, a relationship, a job, or a new life
direction.
What did/do you have a love-hate relationship with
upgrading?
My cell phone, a car, moving. I love the idea of all the new apps and buttons and exploring news locations, until time sets in and I'm pressed to figure out how to use those with no time to read the instructions or leisurely get lost. Thank goodness for kids who like to play with technology and share with their moms. And with husbands who love to drive so I can check out the area and get to know my new home (& friends who show me knew routes). As for the car, well, that baby better last because I finally figured it all out on my own. ;0)
ReplyDelete*knuckle tap* That is soo true about the phones. And the car! One of the many reasons I love my Roo is because he has this great little toggle that doesn't do anything but fix the clock. A prior vehicle had the whole 'press 'play' for six seconds, followed by the AC button, then twirl the tuning knob exactly 33 1/3 degrees' to change the clock. You think I could ever remember that? NOT!
DeleteThe bike seat shift would make me nuts, too. When I was a kid, I rode Western but take hunt seat lessons now. I think I'm used to that bend in the knee; it makes me feel secure. I also like the idea of switching horses for my riding lessons until I climb aboard. Then, I think the horse's different color does something floopy to my eyes because I get temporary amnesia. Adding to the fun is that different horses also come with different tack. I miss the braided reins when I've been riding a horse with plain reins. I'm just glad I never rode with rainbow reins because that's a feature I'd have a terrible time giving up.
ReplyDeleteOMG so true about a different horse color in your peripheral vision. Love it! And I was a big fan of the rainbow reins for my short stirrup kids. And, er, myself. ;)
DeleteIt must be kismet - we just went out and got new phones! I couldn't figure out how to answer the new phone at first. Tried to push what I had to slide. :( Fun, fun, fun!
ReplyDeleteLOLOL! We need video :)
DeleteUh, I'll have to figure out how to do that first ... uh ...:)
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