The Love of a good Woman…

I recently suffered a birthday and being at my rapidly advancing age means that there are few things that I lust want and need for like a child of 6. It also means that in order for me to get something that I am actually going to appreciate or use, it pretty much has to be something I want and not just a pail full of lego.

This is where the love of a good woman can come into play. You see most women, when their man comes back from doing his thing (Whatever that thing might be, things vary) might ask how it went… Or if it was fun, but not really listen. I liken it to saying something polite so it looks like you are kind of interested and then tuning out what follows unless it includes something like ‘We should go out for dinner’ .

My significant other seems to actually listen though. Well at least some of time anyways… This fall, after discovering just how much the price of the framebag/glovebox I wanted for my bike was, I used some rapid prototype technology and good old fashioned elbow grease to build one:

Yes, I know it’s not pretty. That it looks to be made from cardboard,  with gorilla tape, was likely held on with zipstraps, and held shut with a small piece of velcro.  Other than it getting too cold for the adhesive the velcro came with to stick on some nights leaving the velcro stuck to nothing but itself, and the fact that the rear tire would sometimes try and fill it with snow it worked great!

Sometimes upon getting back from doing my thing, I would complain about my homemade glovebox.  I would complain and then talk about how I thought it might be nice to have the real one on day, but that it was too expensive, never really thinking that anything would actually come of it.

Then, on my birthday, she gave me just what I had been longing for. In addition to this it was in a size that would fit. what are the odds? I mean first of all she got the correct frame bag, but second of all, and this is really the important one, she got the correct size. I don’t even remember mentioning the size to her… That’s how good a listener she is!

I felt like I was 6 years old again, with a big pail of lego. May your woman be as good a listener as mine, and may the lube never fall from your chain.

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