My bike is in the shop for the week. For a whole friggin week. I was riding home from work last week and slowed down for the (absurdly placed) stoplight near my apartment, and as I did I felt and heard a crunchSNAP as my handlebars broke in my hands. It's a good thing that my two-up seat was putting a good 190 pounds of pressure on my buttox or I would have completely crapped myself. I rode it home and found that the place where the risers come out of the tripletree has been cocked up. I think it's a rubber seating that broke or somesuch. So I loaded it up Saturday and took it in. A damned week, just for that little repair. I took my truck today for the first time in months and got a TICKET of course, just like every time I take the truck to work. I park where I please and if you remember, I had to pay like 100+ bucks in tickets last time. I like my bike because I get NO TICKETS and can park even closer to work, which means I can leave for work even later..
So it looks like my mother will be coming up for my cousin's wedding shower. If I'm in town (my boss hasn't mentioned if I have to go to FLA this weekend) I'll do somesuch with her I imagine (after I pick up my bike, of course).
I went up to Houston Saturday to try and find this one SCUBA dive shop downtown, but the traffic was out-fucking-rageous. I couldn't find it anywhere, and subsequently, I did not go diving like I had planned. I want to get some dives in this season, at least 20. Since there's a lake I can dive within the city limits, I'm ready to do it. If I can get about 30 or 40 more dives under my belt, I'll feel completely ready to get my divemaster certification. That would be fancy.