My Patient Husband’s Bicycle returns

My Patient Husband said that sometime later this week, he’s going to take a walk down the street from his job over to the bicycle store.

He says, “But I’m not going to buy anything. I’m pretty safe because I won’t have my car.”

I replied, “Dude, it’s a bicycle store. You could ride it back. They’ll assemble it for you.”

He pointed out that he’d have his car at work. I said he could ride the bike home and leave the car at work.

He said, “With my luck, it will be raining.”

This is about where I stepped out of Reality by the door marked EXIT. I said, “You could just bring it up to your  office and stash it in the corner. And then keep looking at it. And looking at it. And looking — ”

By this point, we were both cracking up with laughter.

The scene: The CEO glances up from his work to see my Patient Husband, in bike pants and bike helmet and reflective shirt, sailing past his desk on his brand-new super-duper commuter-ready bike. Thinking, “Wha–?” the gentleman steps out from behind his desk and walks to the door, looking down the hallway just in time to see my Patient Husband, helmeted and crouched low over the handle-bars, doing another lap of the circumferential hallway around Angel Industries Building #1.

With any luck, I wouldn’t have to spend my energies after that worrying about my husband commuting via bike. At least not to that particular place of employment.

Or maybe that’s one of the sanest things going on there. “Do you know,” said my Patient Husband, “what they were doing in the hallway on Wednesday?”

This past week was crunch time for Angel Industries. So of course, the Patient Coworkers were all nose-to-the-grindstone, bucked down to industriously turn out Widgets and Thingamajaggies.

Right. Actually, what happened was that six of his co-workers took leave of their senses and were playing hall-hockey.

He named them off for me, so-and-so who actually plays hockey, and these other people whose names I know in passing, had somehow laid hold of a hall hockey set with knee-high goals and short hockey sticks, whacking a ball through the hallway right outside his door.

I didn’t ask if a fight broke out. I hope they can get hold of a few ramps, though, so my Patient Husband can launch over them after he acquires his bike.


  1. cricketB

    We call that schlockie. Yes, the school has a few sets for recess, but without padding. I think they have to improvise the nets, too. But there are sticks in the recess monitors’ packs.

    Look on the bright side. When Kiddo#1 reaches P.Husband’s size, you won’t have to take him bike-shopping.

  2. Scott

    If the bike’s going to permanently reside in the office, is that going to be used as the new alternative power supply for the computers? He’d probably have to work longer hours.

  3. philangelus

    Fortunately, his job doesn’t make him run like a hamster on a wheel. That was my old job. 🙂

    Cricket,”schlockie” just sounds so… bad. “Schlock” is Yiddish for “cheap knockoffs,” right?

  4. cricketB

    I dunno, but this winter rules for it were posted by the doors. Only 2 players, size of rink, distance from spectators, max. height of ball above ground, time. Gah, that sounds rule-bound! Mostly: Don’t get too crowded, ball near ground, and share equipment.

  5. Lane in PA

    There’s a piece in the New York Times this morning discussing proper fashion for the working man who commutes via two wheels. This link is to a slide show of male models with their bicycles:

    Methinks some of the designers need to go back to the drawing board.


  6. philangelus

    Thanks, Lane: I’ll pass it along.

    BTW, I got your email but haven’t had time to reply yet. Sorry. 🙁 I’ll get back to you shortly.

  7. cricketB

    Hmmm, image 3 has chains. (Oops, wrong blog, wrong ID.) Neither one looks hot and sweaty enough to have been biking. (Oops, still wrong blog.) I suppose there was some wind from the blow-dryer when styling his hair. Image 8 actually shows him riding it without (quite) falling off.