I haven’t really thought much about you lately. It’s been most pleasant. I’m calm, peaceful even.
I am writing to inform you that my bike is fixed. Finally. I thought you should know. I have a seat post, and it fits into that that sad stump you left exposed when you pilfered my seat all those weeks ago. It took many moons, and all my emotional strength to finally get a post that fits. But get one I did.
You will be happy to know that Duke’s was less than helpful. They “ordered” me a post and kept me in the lurch for three weeks waiting for it to come in. Then when I was tired of waiting I google-stalked and reverse 411’ed NORCO (they, for some strange reason, neglect to put their phone number on their website). As you may recall from my last letter, the charming gentleman who took my call informed me they have a shim that will solve all my woes. I just need a bike store to order it in for me! So I called Duke’s and they “cancelled” my previous seat post “order” to instead “order” me a shim. Another week goes by. I called Duke’s to check in on my shim “order”. Oddly enough it turns out that Duke’s never ordered or cancelled anything, except they did happily charge my credit card $10.00. Magic! They also, apparently, have a clip-board dedicated to me, no doubt strewn with doodles of a she-devil-banshee bitch. I’d like to frame it. Hang it above my fireplace. Show it off to my grand kids one day.
But, my good Asshat, when I called Duke’s for the final time, for the first time ever a lovely, helpful, positively cheerful girl answered my call. And she was kind enough to refund me the $10 and “cancel” my “order” that she said didn’t even exist. Fabulous. Thanks Duke’s! You guys are champs!
So I was back to square one, Asshat. But this time I was saddled with this sentence:
“Please order me the shim from NORCO that will take a 25’4 up to a 28’”.
My ruby red lips clicked out this sentence three times before, like Dorothy, I got exactly what I wanted. The kind soul at Bathurst Cycle (who I might add could do nothing for me five weeks ago) had a sudden revelation. Maybe it was my dejected posture, or my sad sigh as I turned to walk out of his shoppe, or maybe it really was divine intervention. But as I walked out towards the blazing sunlight he said “Miss! Wait! I have an idea!” A choir of angels began to sing as he tore two metal bits off a metal tube and crammed them on another metal tube. He handed me this crafted silver creation, charged me $20, and sent me on my merry way.
Goodbye yellow brick road.
I can ride again, Asshat. And I can remove my seat, so you are less inclined to take it home with you. This whole debacle is finally over. For now. And I bought this T-Shirt to commemorate the whole experience. Sadly the man wearing the T-Shirt is not included, because he looks like he could maybe donkey punch you, real good.
So, as I politely asked you in my first letter: Please, stay the fuck away from my bike.