August 30, 2011
Don't Worry. Be Happy.
In the garden this morning passing time until the bike shop opens, I took off the rear-brake caliper and screwed it back on again positioning it as best I could and found that it wouldn't centre over the disc-rotor. It remained offset. This has caused one brake-pad to wear more than the other brake-pad (as previously said), something I didn't pay much attention to when originally fitting the brakes; and ever since there has always been the one pad reaching the disc first and flexing it towards the other pad until the two pads met when braking. I had to always screw in that (further offset) pad regulary to compensate. Another thing I decided on in the garden this morning was that I'd keep the bike as a single-speed as finding a gear-hanger for the Merida is looking unlikely.
At nine o'clock I set off walking across town to the bike shop opposite the Gard (railway station). It was a pleasant walk along old streets past pavement cafes but it was a long walk. A point to ponder, something profoundly different that I've noticed since arriving in France, I have not yet seen one Four by Four, neither in the countryside nor here in the city. The French it seems drive cars which get them from A to B, small fuel efficient cars, not big pretentious am-ming I great look at me cars.
The middle of town is pedestrianized but the wide avenue by the Gard is full of traffic, small Citreons and Renaults, sensible cars. If this were an Irish town centre, you wouldn't see the street for Land Rovers, Land Cruisers or whatever other fashion accessory oversized box on wheels, but in France commonsense prevails. Car drivers are polite too. I was halfway across a zebra crossing when the lights went green and a car moved forward causing me to dash out of it's way before the driver braked and said out the window "Pardon".
I eventually got to the bike shop opposite the Gard which was closed yesterday and entered. There wasn't a lot in this bike shop as it traded mainly in cheap street bikes and didn't have the brake pads Is after. The young blond haired man behind the counter that spoke to me in a mix of French and English directed me to another bike shop saying "go tout droit five lights et a droit to Cycle Gerhard", adding "it's honly five minutes".
I walked for nearly fifteen minutes until I reached the fifth traffic-light and turned left into a street but saw no bike shop. I thought that I'd probably walked too far, so started back the way I came. I walked back to the next traffic-lights and saw Cycle Gerhard the fourth shop in on righthand street. I entered and had a look around. There wasn't just the usual competition racing and mountain bikes, there was actually everything for the touring-cyclist including, Tubus rakes, Vandes pannier and even a Bob Yak trailer. Here too the man behind the counter spoke a little English and returned out from the back room with an assortment of brake-pads amongst which was the ones Is after.
Back in the garden fitting the new brake-pads, I realised that I'd very soon need to replace the front brake-pads too and may as well do it now but as it was well after eleven o'clock I thought to wait till the shop opens after lunchtime before returning.
It was time for a haircut, so on the way back after lunchtime I looked in the windows of a few hairdressers. The prices were all the same, eighteen Euros, which is more than I've every paid for a haircut. I didn't see a barbershop so perhaps there is no concept of barbershops in France. The uni-sex hairdresser that I eventually entered, the other customers were all women with stylish enough hairdos without getting their hair done a second time. My name is noted and I take a seat to wait with the sound of hairdryers and customer hairdresser conversation all around me. Then a girl calls out my name Messuer See-an! Thats my name, well the way francophone people say my name. I put on an apron and sat in the seat, the hairdresser cut a sample of my hair and asked com sa? to confirm that the clipping machine has been set at the right number. She then whizzed around my head while I looked on in the mirror at hair being shoveled off, like a sheep being sheared. It was all over too soon and was far from the best haircut I've had but how could I complain. At lease, I wouldn't be back the next time I need a haircut as, I'll be somewhere faraway.
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