Three days ago, I broke my bike.

I was just riding along and doing my usual thing. Since it was a little hilly back there, I was trying to get used to shifting the bike between high, medium, and low gears. Usually, I just put it in high and deal with it.

But, I didn’t want to deal with it. I was having to push my bike up hills more often than I liked. While no one was around to see this, it was becoming annoying. I wanted my ride to be seamless and was working towards that goal, doubly so if it strengthens my arthritic hip.

I flew too high, however. On the right-hand side, there are a bunch of numbers. I don’t really know what they’re for. They’ve been at ‘6’ since I started and thought I’d be bold and start trying different settings.

And that’s when everything when to heck.
The chain slipped off and I couldn’t get it back on after trying for nearly forty minutes at the side of a busy street. Walked it back the mile and a half and took it to the local bike repair shop.

He fiddled with it for a while and couldn’t pull the chain either. I felt a little vindicated since I couldn’t fix it and he couldn’t either. Declaring — Jess… I think he said his name was Jess… the bike in need of an advanced repair, that the bike wasn’t worth the money.

The repair cost of $120 would exceed more than what the bike is worth.

Honestly, I knew that going in or had the suspicion.
The bike isn’t anything special. It’s pretty basic made with low-quality parts. Purchased at Wal-Mart, it definitely wasn’t the best bike offered at the time.

The bike fulfilled a deep-seated need for me at the time. I wanted to ride a $#*#$*# bike and couldn’t. I was in my anorexia stage at that point and couldn’t walk up steps, let alone anything else.

That didn’t matter. Once I got out of the House, little sister gave me money. I got the bike and subsequently mostly ignored it for the next couple of years. I think that part of the reason is that I was feeling unsure about my physical ability to ride. Having the bike crammed in the corner with a bent wheel didn’t help either – although the wheel was repaired later. Actually, it was repaired by the same place I took the bike to this time.

This was my biking summer.
My hip needs to be strengthened. The best way to do so is actually swimming but I don’t have access to a pool. The second best way, I think, is biking and that is what I’m doing. Or, was doing.

I’m determined not to allow a busted and inflamed hip slow me. To double down, I was going to make it as strong as possible.

And then the bike crapped out.

Then, I made a mistake.
I complained about it. I whined about how the repair man said that the bike was worthless. I showed my frustration about the two-week repair time. I displayed the hopelessness of the loss of a good activity

And I should have never done that.

Mom and Jason wanted to toss money at it. Mom wanted to give me money to buy a new Wal-Mart bike. Jason was willing to charge the price of the repair on an already overburdened credit card.

But, there was absolutely no way I could take them up on their offers. Riding a bike is a want, not a need. If I want to indulge in a want, I should, somehow, be able to pay for it myself. Of course, I really can’t. Not effectively when I’m saving every little penny for Florida house improvements, paying debt, and filling up the truck.

Jason still doesn’t have a job and is living on fumes. Mom buys groceries and pays the bills. These are needs. Accepting their charity for a want when there are needs is irresponsible and just stupid of me to do so. It would be a compromise of my core character.

I don’t think they felt that way.

I don’t care. I know I’m right.

I don’t ** need ** to ride a bike.
They ** need ** to be able to pay bills.

And the world is continually going into the shitter thanks to President Brandon. It’s just too risky and foolhardy.

Actually, Bill came up with a sensible solution — yard sailing. He suggested looking around to see if I could find a good used replacement that was under the $120 repair cost. But, that would require gas to look for something that might not exist. Gas, which is as of today, $4.89 per gallon.

I filled up the truck today. 70 miles = $30 dollars.

I couldn’t justify driving all over the county visiting yard sales in the attempt to * possibly * find a bike to fulfill a * want. *

So, I’ll have to pay from my own fumes or, probably when I lose my nerve, cancel the repair and push the bike back into the corner of the garage again. Or, even better, give it away to one of those charity places that would fix it up and give it to a homeless man.

I’ve got about a week to decide. I don’t know what I’m going to do.