Back to HOMEPAGE
Made some changes to the overview page yesterday. I didn’t like the way I had described it previously. I think what is there now is about right. Yesterday’s “scenarios” essay got me to thinking a bit about scenarios that will happen with this court date. I’ll chime in about that tomorrow. I have something about the bike school for today I hope you’ll like.
Back at the bike school
Went for a long bike ride again yesterday. I’ve been riding a lot lately, the global warming making for easy winter going. I rode out about 10 miles to a village where I knew some people. The roads were wet rather than icy and the ride was pleasant. On the way back I stopped in at the bike school. I hadn’t planned on stopping in there. But I felt good after the ride and I still had some time before Tatyana came home. My legs were pleasantly warm. I had made a similar ride a few days ago. At that time I had made two wrong turns and needed to peddle about 20 extra kilometers to get there and back. It was minus 20 and I got a little frostbite in my little toes.
Sergei and Sasha were out front in the snow, kicking a football around with Sergei’s three-year-old girl. Sergei and Sasha were a little angry at me for missing a football game the previous Saturday. I tried to explain why I had missed it, but they didn’t really care. After a few minutes Kolia stuck his head out the door and smiled at me. He was happy to see me. He said he had something I would like to see. He said he would have to get it. I asked how was his health and he said that he had a little headache. I clicked my neck, implying that a little vodka would be a good cure, and he smiled agreement. After the riders went home, Kolia asked if he could borrow my bike to make the ride to get what he was talking about. I agreed and added that it would be a good workout for him because my bike was so slow now; my track wheels replaced by 26 inch, steel rims, balloon tires and a coaster brake after the sport hub’s collapse. Kolia had a little trouble getting his boots into my toe clips and I joked him about that. I questioned his being a cycling champion if he hadn’t yet mastered toe clips. It was a small joke, but Kolia shot me a glance telling me that these words were not funny to him. I guess cycling champions are like that.
I went with Sasha to the store. On the way there we talked about how we were all getting along together. I told him I was happy because my Russian was coming along so well. He told me it was normal. I said that really I understand now about 80 to 85% of what people say. He told me that he could understand about the same percentage of my spoken Russian. We both agreed that vodka defiantly added to the fluency on both sides. We were in the magazine when I started talking about the Belarussian dialect the people in the village speak. I made a joke that they all speak without ever closing their mouths. The ladies at the store all laughed at this joke. We bought a bottle of local vodka, which was labeled CCCP. I commented that this would be good for drinking “together”! This drew wane smiles. The lady at the counter asked me where I was from. Usually I feel that most everybody here knows me. I answered her with Tatyana’s and my street address and this got a little laugh as well. We had to go to a different counter to get a little brown bread and a lemon. This would no be a big party, so I thought this enough and added three plastic cups. The woman behind that counter asked me again where I was from. I didn’t say immediately and so she asked me if I was “Polaki”. I made a great show of taking offence at this and bade her never to say such bad words to me again or I should buy my vodka elsewhere. They all got that joke too and we left before the laughter could subside.
Sasha and I had a drink together while we waited. The bread was perfect as was about the texture of moist cake. We shared some sunflower seeds I had gotten for my ride. Sasha had an electronic clock he had become fascinated by and was playing with it. The time on the clock was not correct.
When Kolia came in, he had with him some newspaper. As he was hanging up his coat, he said that my rear wheel had some clicks in it. I told him I knew and that it was a combination of a slightly bent axle and salt from the road. He agreed that we should fix it. He gingerly opened the newspaper and revealed four or five sheets of fax paper stapled together. I slid the fax out of its casing and had a look. It was a price sheet from Mendelev, the owner of the big sport bike shop in Minsk. On it was listed the costs of frames and forks made by the Coppi company in Italy. Kolia was very excited by the prices for things on the list. Sasha was more interested in the newspaper wrapping which happened to be the TV page.
He pointed out that some of the frames alone, without wheels or deraileures or anything were as much as $1700. The words for the materials were the same as in English, so I could see that the prices for high end Columbus steel, Carbon Fibre, Chro-moly and Aluminum were based upon material and quality of joinery. I didn’t see any titanium. The word for frame in Russian is “villar”, and I guess I missed his intended point and thought he was complaining about the price as being too high. I started in on an argument about how difficult it is to even buy Columbus tubing and how you had to demonstrate your joining and welding skills before you could even receive any. But this was not what he was talking about. He was showing me that it was possible to even sell these bikes in Belarus. He showed me where a carbon fibre fork (vilka) costs $150. “Only for the fork!” he cried happily.
But I guess what he was implying didn’t fit within my 85% understanding threshold and we bantered back and forth some more before we heard a sound out front and everybody froze.
Kolia went out front to see who it was. I went with him. Sasha turned out the light and stood in the dark in the back office. It was Kolia’s wife. She had come to fetch him home and had brought with her Kolia’s own three-year-old daughter. Kolia’s wife was pretty in her round Russian fur hat and long coat. She looked at him with pleading tired eyes.
I thought at once that this was a larger plea from her about his drinking. I guess I had never thought about it from that perspective before. Kolia was talking to her quickly; explaining. She just stood there and silently plead her own case that he had drank enough and it was time to come home.
I went to back to clean up. I told Sasha to turn on the damned light and help. Sasha had poured out three stiff glasses. I looked behind the desk and saw there was a little yet left in the bottle. Kolia was right behind me and told me to sit down. He held up his glass to toast the bikes. I guess we were going to finish the bottle.
“It’s real!” He said after we grimaced and ate some lemon and bread.
“it’s not real.” I answered back. “Do you know how much money you would need to have a shop like that here? And of the 130,000 people in Pinsk, what percentage of them would you say were rich enough to think of $2500 bikes?”
“We are a rich town.”
“We are rich for Belarus, maybe but a large percentage of us still has only their $60 a month.”
“It is possible.”
“What is possible,” I said “is $200 to $300 mountain and sport bikes. We could sell them here because this is what our clients could afford.” The thought of low end bikes made Kolia sad. We drank the last of the bottle and cleared the table. Kolia’s wife was still standing there near the door. The girl leaning against her mom’s legs for security when the men came out of the back.
“It’s not real.” I said.
“It’s possible.” He said.
“We would have more bandits than customers. This is not Minsk.”
“It’s possible.” He said again. He showed his wife my bike and all of the emblems from all of the bike shops I had worked at; Seattle, New York, Vancouver. One stamp from Ostrow in Poland and a card taped to the seat tube that said I was “preparing as a sportsman for the defense of the CCCP” that was given to me by this bike school. I lifted the bike up and pointed to rear dropouts.
“I know what you are saying about quality. This whole back end in made from Columbus SLRX. I was there in New York when the guy spent 11 hours welding and filing. Beautiful bikes make me happy too, but we don’t have money for anything much less thousand-dollar bikes. He smiled at me. His wife seemed impressed by this bike lifting and the conversation about thousands of dollars. Maybe she forgave Kolia his drinking with me if that was what would become of it.
At that moment I wasn’t sure who had been drinking with whom. I have been feeling like a jerk lately drinking at the bike school. I have also noticed that I have to drink more to be there. Maybe it is the difficulty of dealing with how little of what I said I would do having been done. Victor quit the dream several months ago but Kolia is still hanging in there, waiting for our shop. He knows what I am doing. He knows what is going on with my case and my situation. He doesn’t believe I lied to him. Victor quit but Kolia’s still there.
We said our “do svadania’s” and I set off on my too slow red Schwinn while Kolia’s wife brought him and their little girl home. Kolia’s family lives in a small dormitory room near the school. The communal kitchen for their floor is across the hall. He gets this as a part of his “deal” for being the trainer for the bike school. He has this room and about $45 dollars a month.
As I rode back on the wet, salty streets I thought to myself that it was kind of amazing that he hasn’t quit believing me yet. He hasn’t quit even though it has been 20 months since I said that I wanted to make a bike shop here. He is still my friend. He still acts happy when he sees me. He never quit. I guess cycling champions are like that.
Back to HOMEPAGE
Made some changes to the overview page yesterday. I didn’t like the way I had described it previously. I think what is there now is about right. Yesterday’s “scenarios” essay got me to thinking a bit about scenarios that will happen with this court date. I’ll chime in about that tomorrow. I have something about the bike school for today I hope you’ll like.
Back at the bike school
Went for a long bike ride again yesterday. I’ve been riding a lot lately, the global warming making for easy winter going. I rode out about 10 miles to a village where I knew some people. The roads were wet rather than icy and the ride was pleasant. On the way back I stopped in at the bike school. I hadn’t planned on stopping in there. But I felt good after the ride and I still had some time before Tatyana came home. My legs were pleasantly warm. I had made a similar ride a few days ago. At that time I had made two wrong turns and needed to peddle about 20 extra kilometers to get there and back. It was minus 20 and I got a little frostbite in my little toes.
Sergei and Sasha were out front in the snow, kicking a football around with Sergei’s three-year-old girl. Sergei and Sasha were a little angry at me for missing a football game the previous Saturday. I tried to explain why I had missed it, but they didn’t really care. After a few minutes Kolia stuck his head out the door and smiled at me. He was happy to see me. He said he had something I would like to see. He said he would have to get it. I asked how was his health and he said that he had a little headache. I clicked my neck, implying that a little vodka would be a good cure, and he smiled agreement. After the riders went home, Kolia asked if he could borrow my bike to make the ride to get what he was talking about. I agreed and added that it would be a good workout for him because my bike was so slow now; my track wheels replaced by 26 inch, steel rims, balloon tires and a coaster brake after the sport hub’s collapse. Kolia had a little trouble getting his boots into my toe clips and I joked him about that. I questioned his being a cycling champion if he hadn’t yet mastered toe clips. It was a small joke, but Kolia shot me a glance telling me that these words were not funny to him. I guess cycling champions are like that.
I went with Sasha to the store. On the way there we talked about how we were all getting along together. I told him I was happy because my Russian was coming along so well. He told me it was normal. I said that really I understand now about 80 to 85% of what people say. He told me that he could understand about the same percentage of my spoken Russian. We both agreed that vodka defiantly added to the fluency on both sides. We were in the magazine when I started talking about the Belarussian dialect the people in the village speak. I made a joke that they all speak without ever closing their mouths. The ladies at the store all laughed at this joke. We bought a bottle of local vodka, which was labeled CCCP. I commented that this would be good for drinking “together”! This drew wane smiles. The lady at the counter asked me where I was from. Usually I feel that most everybody here knows me. I answered her with Tatyana’s and my street address and this got a little laugh as well. We had to go to a different counter to get a little brown bread and a lemon. This would no be a big party, so I thought this enough and added three plastic cups. The woman behind that counter asked me again where I was from. I didn’t say immediately and so she asked me if I was “Polaki”. I made a great show of taking offence at this and bade her never to say such bad words to me again or I should buy my vodka elsewhere. They all got that joke too and we left before the laughter could subside.
Sasha and I had a drink together while we waited. The bread was perfect as was about the texture of moist cake. We shared some sunflower seeds I had gotten for my ride. Sasha had an electronic clock he had become fascinated by and was playing with it. The time on the clock was not correct.
When Kolia came in, he had with him some newspaper. As he was hanging up his coat, he said that my rear wheel had some clicks in it. I told him I knew and that it was a combination of a slightly bent axle and salt from the road. He agreed that we should fix it. He gingerly opened the newspaper and revealed four or five sheets of fax paper stapled together. I slid the fax out of its casing and had a look. It was a price sheet from Mendelev, the owner of the big sport bike shop in Minsk. On it was listed the costs of frames and forks made by the Coppi company in Italy. Kolia was very excited by the prices for things on the list. Sasha was more interested in the newspaper wrapping which happened to be the TV page.
He pointed out that some of the frames alone, without wheels or deraileures or anything were as much as $1700. The words for the materials were the same as in English, so I could see that the prices for high end Columbus steel, Carbon Fibre, Chro-moly and Aluminum were based upon material and quality of joinery. I didn’t see any titanium. The word for frame in Russian is “villar”, and I guess I missed his intended point and thought he was complaining about the price as being too high. I started in on an argument about how difficult it is to even buy Columbus tubing and how you had to demonstrate your joining and welding skills before you could even receive any. But this was not what he was talking about. He was showing me that it was possible to even sell these bikes in Belarus. He showed me where a carbon fibre fork (vilka) costs $150. “Only for the fork!” he cried happily.
But I guess what he was implying didn’t fit within my 85% understanding threshold and we bantered back and forth some more before we heard a sound out front and everybody froze.
Kolia went out front to see who it was. I went with him. Sasha turned out the light and stood in the dark in the back office. It was Kolia’s wife. She had come to fetch him home and had brought with her Kolia’s own three-year-old daughter. Kolia’s wife was pretty in her round Russian fur hat and long coat. She looked at him with pleading tired eyes.
I thought at once that this was a larger plea from her about his drinking. I guess I had never thought about it from that perspective before. Kolia was talking to her quickly; explaining. She just stood there and silently plead her own case that he had drank enough and it was time to come home.
I went to back to clean up. I told Sasha to turn on the damned light and help. Sasha had poured out three stiff glasses. I looked behind the desk and saw there was a little yet left in the bottle. Kolia was right behind me and told me to sit down. He held up his glass to toast the bikes. I guess we were going to finish the bottle.
“It’s real!” He said after we grimaced and ate some lemon and bread.
“it’s not real.” I answered back. “Do you know how much money you would need to have a shop like that here? And of the 130,000 people in Pinsk, what percentage of them would you say were rich enough to think of $2500 bikes?”
“We are a rich town.”
“We are rich for Belarus, maybe but a large percentage of us still has only their $60 a month.”
“It is possible.”
“What is possible,” I said “is $200 to $300 mountain and sport bikes. We could sell them here because this is what our clients could afford.” The thought of low end bikes made Kolia sad. We drank the last of the bottle and cleared the table. Kolia’s wife was still standing there near the door. The girl leaning against her mom’s legs for security when the men came out of the back.
“It’s not real.” I said.
“It’s possible.” He said.
“We would have more bandits than customers. This is not Minsk.”
“It’s possible.” He said again. He showed his wife my bike and all of the emblems from all of the bike shops I had worked at; Seattle, New York, Vancouver. One stamp from Ostrow in Poland and a card taped to the seat tube that said I was “preparing as a sportsman for the defense of the CCCP” that was given to me by this bike school. I lifted the bike up and pointed to rear dropouts.
“I know what you are saying about quality. This whole back end in made from Columbus SLRX. I was there in New York when the guy spent 11 hours welding and filing. Beautiful bikes make me happy too, but we don’t have money for anything much less thousand-dollar bikes. He smiled at me. His wife seemed impressed by this bike lifting and the conversation about thousands of dollars. Maybe she forgave Kolia his drinking with me if that was what would become of it.
At that moment I wasn’t sure who had been drinking with whom. I have been feeling like a jerk lately drinking at the bike school. I have also noticed that I have to drink more to be there. Maybe it is the difficulty of dealing with how little of what I said I would do having been done. Victor quit the dream several months ago but Kolia is still hanging in there, waiting for our shop. He knows what I am doing. He knows what is going on with my case and my situation. He doesn’t believe I lied to him. Victor quit but Kolia’s still there.
We said our “do svadania’s” and I set off on my too slow red Schwinn while Kolia’s wife brought him and their little girl home. Kolia’s family lives in a small dormitory room near the school. The communal kitchen for their floor is across the hall. He gets this as a part of his “deal” for being the trainer for the bike school. He has this room and about $45 dollars a month.
As I rode back on the wet, salty streets I thought to myself that it was kind of amazing that he hasn’t quit believing me yet. He hasn’t quit even though it has been 20 months since I said that I wanted to make a bike shop here. He is still my friend. He still acts happy when he sees me. He never quit. I guess cycling champions are like that.
Back to HOMEPAGE
posted by BEING HAD at
9:53 AM
