Time is flying away towards Sunday, as fast as a well-conditioned time trial specialist. Thunderstruck has not been well prepped, more like not prepped at all. I have not activated the muscle memory algorithm for road biking, I have not succeeded in creating my special TT bars, nothing done, time flying by, not even waiting for the Gathondeki Man to master his plan. Alas, Friday the 10th, I got a chance to finish work early (there’s a passion related story to this that I shall share when the time is ripe). Dopemaster and I just rolled the dark Wild Cat tyres easy as we rose West up A104. Taking a branch left onto Thiong’o Road to Justo’s Welding Shop, I felt a tiny bit of belonging as I blurringly remembered my residential days here. This was the birthplace of The Thunderstruck, I jetted back here at 11pm carrying Him on The Tourist’s side bars in the dark when harlots and drunks were soaking in the vice full night of 9th November 2016. Now I’m back here, seeking an improvement accessory for Him. Just my luck, his shop is open and he’s present. “Yo Justo, mambo vipi? Happy New Year by the way,” I greeted him excitedly as we got down to cadence business. (In Kiswahili) “I’d like you to weld two light pipe poles to these two levers,” I said, showing him where to start and proceed.” Sawa mwana baiskeli, hiyo nitafanya saa hii (Okay Mr. Biker, I shall do this right now).
Justo doing his thing, painting the bars black
So, he goes into his stock, looks for the ideal pipes and brought out the frame of a school desk. Using my long arms are length reference, he cut off two same length pieces. I showed him where to weld onto Thunderstruck old brake levers, the very same ones that He came with. Justo performed his craft, welding the pipe pieces onto the brave levers’ side and rounded them up. Now they need to look time trial like, so I directed him to cut near the tips and raise them up at 45 degrees. I saw how it was done and stored that natural clip into my medulla oblongata, for future references of course. He smoothened the welded joints with a grinder before rubbing the sand paper around the axe looking accessories ready for a paint job. I wanted a silver coat but black was the paint color available, and so black it was. We chatted some more with three more buddies of his who joined in and were interested at my latest crazy invention. I told them of my cycling escapades, my bikes, my undying love for cycling and the race at hand.
Finally, they were dry and ready for transportation. My Maui Bag was full to the zipper, we improvised with a masking tape, wrapped the bars onto The Dopemaster’s cross tube and on our way we went. Now in my layer, my Bat Cave, tools and metal and tape and cloths and so much more were strewn all over the bike room. I’m looking for ring spanner 10/11, I left it in the living room. I need my pliers, it’s in the kitchen. I’m checking my cooking while working, gifts of being raised by a Super Mom. I seal the tips with black cloth and neatly sewed the edges, wrapped the base with black insulating tape and Viola!! We are ready-to-rock-the-bypass.
Well look at you, ready to rumble the Classic way
I had no words to say, just the urge to take Him for a quick ILRI sprint and zoom down and up Kabete Poly. Tomorrow’s tight program of meetings quelled the cadence compulsion, I’ll just have to wait for race day then. Till then, rest to shine my Slim Shady Boy.