I Have a Bicycle. Part 3: Confessions
November 7, 2008
Sometime around 3:30 PM: I grunt and my lips form disjointed syllables, as I feel frustrated enough to swear, but realize that my mouth has never really learned how to form those words. I have spent the last hour or so repairing my rear bike tire tube with what should have been great success. The hardest part has been long over: the actually repair of the puncture. Now, I find that my struggle to get my bike pump to fill the tire with air has become an unseemly Sisyphean crucible. Each time I try to get the pump to create a seal, I find that it will not. And as if the very notion, that a device specifically called a “tire pump” refuses to pump a bike tire, isn’t bad enough, I realize with disgust that the plastic mouth of the pump has cracked and broken and now will never function as it was intended.
My rage is unbridled. My fury has reached its incredible hulk-like pinnacle. Like an infuriated Samson with the jawbone of an ass, I take the pump in my hand and cock back my throwing arm. The pump clatters across the asphalt a few feet away, the thought that if I am to return the pump to Target, it should probably not appear to have been thrown across a parking lot, restraining me like a Delilah with scissors.
That is when I find myself in the position mentioned above, attempting to curse, but not knowing where to start. And for all my angry guttural sounds the only words that I can manage to get out are, “awwwww, poop.”
At 25, I should probably feel sheepish at saying the word, “poop”, especially when most people under extreme duress gravitate to other much harsher words of the English language. And that is my confession. That at 25, I still say the word “poop” when frustrated. And sometimes I say it, even when I’m not frustrated. Several months ago, someone asked me for a topic of conversation, and the first word I thought of was “poop.” It was also the next word out of my mouth. Needless to say, people don’t come to me for conversational topics anymore.
Actually, I just remembered that my real topic for confession is that, for all my bike-riding bravado, I haven’t ridden my bike in over two weeks. But at this point I’ve already written too much. So I’ll lay these “I Have a Bicycle” entries to rest here.