The Come Down

Start with a day serotonin gone and in bed rain outside bike tire soft. It has been long coming this come down feeling, all the way from the north to the south here, down in the middle of forests between work and not work, writing and not writing, enjoying the view and wet so wet. The idea I had to write something before breakfast half materialized, got no further than making a budget that scares me because money will run out. Nothing coming in, the breakfast made by the B&B lady with deep tired eyes. 

            I'd seen her the day before with those eyes and that tobacco smell. Weird how Wallonia is both ghetto and heaven.

Start the day right I think so I eat all the bread, all the cheese, drink all the coffee and go back to bed for five hours to play chess on my phone, googling every dating app on the market because I believe I feel alone. 

            At half past twelve the rain is still going, Marie calls and asks whether I'm coming, I'm dead tired and I tell her no, I'm sorry, and she says it's okay, it was nice meeting you, and she says: "I wish you a good life." 

Start the day right I didn't do yoga, I didn't meditate, but I thought about it. I check my bike and yes the tire's soft, the tire's tubeless and I had troubles with it before. I pump it up with my wee pump and I can feel ten minutes later it's going soft again. I bike into town anyway, rain has stopped, have to get energy bars and vitamins for the coming days. Have to get some lunch too. On the way to the grocery store there's a Trek concept store and I go in, facemask on: 

            "J'ai un problème avec mon tubeless, eh, tire." 

            "Qoui?"

            "Mon whatever, the tire, my tire's softening, I think it's the valve, last time it was the valve." 

            She nods, she's not the maintenance person. In the back in his chair, he waves me over, another set of tired eyes, optimistic though, lights a cigarette (seriously). He says

            "What is the problème?" 

            "My tires, tubeless, soft." 

            "Ah bring here," he takes the bike, my bike, the Bombtrack I worked hard for to save up for. He puts it on a hanger and I feel like there's my baby, helpless. He checks the valve, checks the tire for punctures, then he pumps it to 4 bar while I walk around the spotless bike store, concept store, everything Trek.

Explosion.

The five people in the store hold their hands to their ears, everything is zero dark thirty all of a sudden. The tire's exploded. There's latex tire sealant everywhere. 

            "Ah. I see the problème." 

            I can only laugh. Yes my tire's exploded. 

            He looks at his assistant and tells him in French it can only take 4 kilos, that it's too full, that I need to check out another tire and buy that and he'll put it on, 40 mm he says in French and I say in French no it's 35, and I can understand everything. I tell him

            "The tire clearance on this bike is 35." 

            He says to his assistant to help me and tell me in English what the problem is. 

            The assistant walks up to me and tells me the tire had a bad fold in the rim of the wheel which caused the tire to become rigid, when pressure then gets built up it can only explode. 

            He looks at me with sympathy. I feel helpless.

            I get a new tire, they put it on, 70 euros. I think about the budget I was making this morning. Amendments. 

            The repair man tells me: “Don’t put more than 3.4 bar in there.”

Right.

            Supermarcher. After that experience I need food, I need comfort and ease. Instead it starts to rain and I brought my University of Aberdeen tote bag instead of my backpack because I wanted to look cute in town, doing groceries with my little tote bag. Instead I just go around like a dick with a wet bag that doesn't quite stay on my shoulder as I ride my expensive bike around a grey town that has had enough of tourists, it is autumn, there’ve been floods, time for the turtle to retreat into its shell. The supermarcher is overwhelming and I feel like I don't belong. I pick up some powerbars and bananas and wait in line. A lady with a babystroller comes my way with just one item in her hand. I look at her. She's playing a game with the wee one in the stroller. I motion for her to cut in front of me. Motioning becomes more difficult because of the face mask, but she gets it and smiles as her husband comes up behind her with a shopping cart. He looks at me, at my tote bag, my wet hair, they get in line ahead of me, we don't exchange anything else, what is there to say. 

Back to the house on top of the hill, tote bag in the wind, clothes all wet I arrive in the log cabin I rented for a night. Back on the road tomorrow. Lady here's cooking me dinner tonight. Better learn to enjoy life. I'm here now. Back in bed and I watch a Benny Blanco interview, chill, write this, take a vitamin, eat a power bar. Now I'm out, listening to noname, I think I might shave, I’m thinking of the dreams I had when I was a child.