women...can't live with 'em, pass the beer nuts
Some things I will never understand.
Let's go back about 10 months. I started doing something about my out-of-shape-ness and then got presented with the idea of bike riding 150+ miles, and jumped on that. That move pretty much defined my year through September, but back in February, one of our friends was over at the house when I made this decision. I'll call her Wilma. Wilma's married to Fred, a Naval officer.
Back then, in February, Wilma said to me, "You should get Fred to do this with you. He used to be big into bicycling when we first got married, but he hasn't done it in years. I'll bet he'd be interested in this."
So I approached Fred one night over beers. Fred asked me, "Have you ever done anything like this before?" and I replied in the negative. He said, "I have, and let me tell you what it's like. The first 10 miles, you're smiling, having fun out there, riding along with everyone and life's great. The last 10 miles of the first day...suck. The whole second day...sucks. Your legs hurt. Your ass is sore. No thanks." We had a few more beers and talked about other stuff. At the end of the night when we were parting company, I said (more than asked), "You're thinking about it, aren't you?" He laughed and said yes. I had hope.
Well, the months went by, and he stayed interested in what I was doing in the way of training, but he had two things going against him. He had a bike, but it was a mountain bike. It's not exactly what you want to be on for 30+ miles on the road. That, and he went to Iraq for a few months in the summer.
After Fred came back, we talked more as the ride came and went, and he started shopping for a road bike. We occasionally have dinner and/or drinks with Fred and Wilma, and the topic of bike shopping has come up. About a month and a half ago Wilma asked how much my bike was, and her eyes got wide when I told her. She said she was hoping for something under $500, and I told her the youngster's bike was more than that and it's pretty entry level. A decent road bike from someplace other than Toys R Us is going to easily jump into 4 figures. She wasn't pleased. Still, she didn't veto the idea. Later, when I'd ask her if Fred's getting a bike, she'd smile and say he was thinking about it. She still even seemed enthusiastic.
Now, Fred and Wilma aren't exactly poor. He's a military officer and she's a CPA, working for a major bank. That's also part of the dynamic, here. She makes a fair bit more than he does and controls the purse strings. But still, they're members of a country club. They have a fairly large house that they've built an addition on. They can financially handle a bike that runs over a thousand dollars (or two), if they so choose, without going broke.
Time went by and Fred and I talked about cycling on occasion. He did some shopping in bike shops and online. A few weeks ago I spent 4 hours in the bike shop close to home with him. He rode several, and got a good idea of what he wanted. Actually, he found one he really liked, but knew it was a bit over Wilma's budget expectations. He kept looking, visiting more bike shops and spending more time online, but I think it was "research" to justify getting what he really wanted, despite the cost.
I talked to Fred last Wednesday, and told him the youngster and I would be riding over the holidays. Was there any chance he'd be joining us? He said yes. He was bike shopping and his goal was to have a new road bike by Friday evening.
Friday I talked to his son, who said he was out bike shopping. He called after going to one bike shop, and was off to the local one I had visited with him, where the 'over budget' bike resided. I went for a ride of my own, and he passed me on the way out of the neighborhood in his car, going to said bike shop. This was around 2:00. I got home, showered, watched some TV, we sat down to dinner a bit after 6:00 and the doorbell rang while we were eating. There at the front door in the darkness was Fred with his new 'over budget' bike and a big smile. New bike, new bike shoes, new bike shorts and he's cheezin'. I had seen it before, but he was there and all proud of it, so I looked again...and it is nice. The guys at the bike shop had him there for over 4 hours, riding different bikes and fitting him for the one he bought. They took good care of him. He's going to like that bike for a very long time. As long as he sticks with it, and I'm trying to make sure we both do, it'll be one of the healthiest investments of his life. He left for home.
Two minutes later, the phone rings. The wife answered and it was Wilma. "The bastard went and bought a bike. Not only that, he rode it home, so now I have to drive him to the fuckin' bike shop to get his car. I'm so pissed." No, the wife didn't tell her we already knew that because we saw the bike before she did. No sense dousing the fire with gasoline. I'm thinking...she knew where he was going and what his intentions were. Did she not expect a bike at some point? After he had been in the same bike shop since 2:00 and not home until 6:30, wasn't that a clue that it was probably happening now?
Half an hour later, Wilma calls back. I answer the phone. "You guys need to come over here, and bring beer and wine, because we're out and this is mostly your fault."
My fault? Excuse me? Who was it back in February, that said I should talk Fred into this? We did go, and we brought beer and wine, and I diffused the anger just a little when I walked in and looked at the bike (supposedly for the first time), turned to the wife and said, "Honey, Fred's got a cooler bike than me. Can I get a new one?" Even Wilma smiled.
In another week she'll be over it and life will return to normal, if it hasn't already. Fred just had a birthday, and the bike is his birthday and Christmas presents combined. He knew that would happen. I just do not get how I somehow got blamed for all this. I decided to get into bicycling and Wilma was the one who suggested I bring her husband along for the ride. All I did was act on her suggestion. Even the wife shook her head and said, "That Fred is a saint. Wilma's pretty high maintenance, and she's lucky he puts up with that shit." I didn't bring up the fact that while I was being fitted for my bike, she was sitting on the other side of the bike shop stewing, and didn't want to talk to me. Part of that was boredom, but part was the fact that I was spending a bit more money than either of us thought I would.
We went 27 miles Saturday morning, starting to work on that dollar per mile investment Fred made on his new wheels. He's already under $100 a mile. I'm somewhere between one and two dollars a mile, and dropping every week.
Let's go back about 10 months. I started doing something about my out-of-shape-ness and then got presented with the idea of bike riding 150+ miles, and jumped on that. That move pretty much defined my year through September, but back in February, one of our friends was over at the house when I made this decision. I'll call her Wilma. Wilma's married to Fred, a Naval officer.
Back then, in February, Wilma said to me, "You should get Fred to do this with you. He used to be big into bicycling when we first got married, but he hasn't done it in years. I'll bet he'd be interested in this."
So I approached Fred one night over beers. Fred asked me, "Have you ever done anything like this before?" and I replied in the negative. He said, "I have, and let me tell you what it's like. The first 10 miles, you're smiling, having fun out there, riding along with everyone and life's great. The last 10 miles of the first day...suck. The whole second day...sucks. Your legs hurt. Your ass is sore. No thanks." We had a few more beers and talked about other stuff. At the end of the night when we were parting company, I said (more than asked), "You're thinking about it, aren't you?" He laughed and said yes. I had hope.
Well, the months went by, and he stayed interested in what I was doing in the way of training, but he had two things going against him. He had a bike, but it was a mountain bike. It's not exactly what you want to be on for 30+ miles on the road. That, and he went to Iraq for a few months in the summer.
After Fred came back, we talked more as the ride came and went, and he started shopping for a road bike. We occasionally have dinner and/or drinks with Fred and Wilma, and the topic of bike shopping has come up. About a month and a half ago Wilma asked how much my bike was, and her eyes got wide when I told her. She said she was hoping for something under $500, and I told her the youngster's bike was more than that and it's pretty entry level. A decent road bike from someplace other than Toys R Us is going to easily jump into 4 figures. She wasn't pleased. Still, she didn't veto the idea. Later, when I'd ask her if Fred's getting a bike, she'd smile and say he was thinking about it. She still even seemed enthusiastic.
Now, Fred and Wilma aren't exactly poor. He's a military officer and she's a CPA, working for a major bank. That's also part of the dynamic, here. She makes a fair bit more than he does and controls the purse strings. But still, they're members of a country club. They have a fairly large house that they've built an addition on. They can financially handle a bike that runs over a thousand dollars (or two), if they so choose, without going broke.
Time went by and Fred and I talked about cycling on occasion. He did some shopping in bike shops and online. A few weeks ago I spent 4 hours in the bike shop close to home with him. He rode several, and got a good idea of what he wanted. Actually, he found one he really liked, but knew it was a bit over Wilma's budget expectations. He kept looking, visiting more bike shops and spending more time online, but I think it was "research" to justify getting what he really wanted, despite the cost.
I talked to Fred last Wednesday, and told him the youngster and I would be riding over the holidays. Was there any chance he'd be joining us? He said yes. He was bike shopping and his goal was to have a new road bike by Friday evening.
Friday I talked to his son, who said he was out bike shopping. He called after going to one bike shop, and was off to the local one I had visited with him, where the 'over budget' bike resided. I went for a ride of my own, and he passed me on the way out of the neighborhood in his car, going to said bike shop. This was around 2:00. I got home, showered, watched some TV, we sat down to dinner a bit after 6:00 and the doorbell rang while we were eating. There at the front door in the darkness was Fred with his new 'over budget' bike and a big smile. New bike, new bike shoes, new bike shorts and he's cheezin'. I had seen it before, but he was there and all proud of it, so I looked again...and it is nice. The guys at the bike shop had him there for over 4 hours, riding different bikes and fitting him for the one he bought. They took good care of him. He's going to like that bike for a very long time. As long as he sticks with it, and I'm trying to make sure we both do, it'll be one of the healthiest investments of his life. He left for home.
Two minutes later, the phone rings. The wife answered and it was Wilma. "The bastard went and bought a bike. Not only that, he rode it home, so now I have to drive him to the fuckin' bike shop to get his car. I'm so pissed." No, the wife didn't tell her we already knew that because we saw the bike before she did. No sense dousing the fire with gasoline. I'm thinking...she knew where he was going and what his intentions were. Did she not expect a bike at some point? After he had been in the same bike shop since 2:00 and not home until 6:30, wasn't that a clue that it was probably happening now?
Half an hour later, Wilma calls back. I answer the phone. "You guys need to come over here, and bring beer and wine, because we're out and this is mostly your fault."
My fault? Excuse me? Who was it back in February, that said I should talk Fred into this? We did go, and we brought beer and wine, and I diffused the anger just a little when I walked in and looked at the bike (supposedly for the first time), turned to the wife and said, "Honey, Fred's got a cooler bike than me. Can I get a new one?" Even Wilma smiled.
In another week she'll be over it and life will return to normal, if it hasn't already. Fred just had a birthday, and the bike is his birthday and Christmas presents combined. He knew that would happen. I just do not get how I somehow got blamed for all this. I decided to get into bicycling and Wilma was the one who suggested I bring her husband along for the ride. All I did was act on her suggestion. Even the wife shook her head and said, "That Fred is a saint. Wilma's pretty high maintenance, and she's lucky he puts up with that shit." I didn't bring up the fact that while I was being fitted for my bike, she was sitting on the other side of the bike shop stewing, and didn't want to talk to me. Part of that was boredom, but part was the fact that I was spending a bit more money than either of us thought I would.
We went 27 miles Saturday morning, starting to work on that dollar per mile investment Fred made on his new wheels. He's already under $100 a mile. I'm somewhere between one and two dollars a mile, and dropping every week.
Labels: Bizarro World
John put this out here at 7:51 AM
3 Comments:
wow...wilma's kind of a nutcase eh? i would love it if my husband came home with a new bike for health/exercise purposes. God knows we could both stand to lose a few several pounds! Good for Fred. Happy riding.
It's those damn hormones.
Damn them. DAMN them.
;-)
For the record, I think Jessie's right. It was probably a momentary hormonal thing. Wilma's fine now and it hasn't even been a week.
Actually, I think she was fine Saturday afternoon, when we came back from the ride. She warned me not to wear Fred out, because he had work to do...and he managed to put up their Christmas lights that afternoon.
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