Sunday morning I planned on taking the kids to church. I woke up early to feed the dogs but instead of going back to bed, I decided to get my Inglis back up and running by converting the rear wheel from my Felt to a single speed. As I started to pull the wheel off my bike I had a change of heart; I put the Felt back together, washed off the mud from the Yankee Springs race in April, and let the kids sleep in so I could ride. Since God is omnipresent I figured what the hell.
This is the part of the story where a physiologist could have a field day: I was overcome with guilt for neglecting my Felt this summer, as if it rolled it eyes and sighed: "sure, screw up your single speed and come crawling back to me." I half expected it to launch me into a tree to make this point. It didn't. It worked fine. It was a good ride, but now my Inglis is upset with me.