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As I have a number of exams coming up, I should be concentrating on revision, but when there’s a sunrise that starts like this…
It’s that time of year when cycling is reduced to the bare minimum, of muck and slush and plans to start dog sledding.Of wrestling with the rain cover because without it Beautiful Daughter would start to lose extremities from the windchill.
And still people say she’s ‘Got it good’ while shovelling kids into their heated cars.
Yesterday the Elder Son and I spent twenty minutes changing the tyres on our shared bike for spikes. He’s discovered a new reason to go the next town and doesn’t want to have to wait for the ice to melt to ge there. I’ll need them next week to commute to college without ending up in a ditch somewhere on the way and many of the cycleways are currently under thick layers of hard packed snow and temperatures are reaching -14°c (Very cold °f).
If last year is anything to go by, expect reports of sudden warm weather in southern Germany for the next few weeks.
The Bakfiets had a puncture. This usually means Saturday will be spent fixing it, as the back wheel is quite tricky to get out of the bike, and more to the point, very fiddly to get back on again, or at least to put it on again so the bike moves in a straight line and the brakes work.
It was therefore very annoying that when I had wrestled the wheel of the bike, repaired the puncture, fought the wheel until it went back onto the bike, and then put the brakes and gears beck together so we could use it, the tyre went down again.
I was planning to replace this tyre at some undefined point in the future as it was worn down from seven years of carrying children, shopping, party supplies, scrap, exam projects, luggage, and furniture, to the point that the tyre was so loose it didn’t even need tyre levers to take it off the wheel any more. I decided to take the drastic step of actually spending money, went online and ordered a puncture proof-ish tyre, a new inner tube and extra wide rim tape, in the hope of sorting out the problem permanently. Then it dawned on me that I also needed to replace the gear shifter, as the bikes eight gears were now down to seven on a good day, and those were not always predictable due to the twist grip shifters habit of shredding cables, so I also ordered a proper trigger shifter, on the basis that I may as well just fight this battle once and deal with both problems at the same time.
All this came to about fifty euros, which is probably the most I’ve spent on the Bakfiets in one go since I bought it.
I also managed to persuade the Elder Son that as he is now riding the bakfiets several times a week, he should learn how to fix it by helping me, and se surprised ourselves by managing the whole repair in an hour and a half. Elder Son says this is his influence.
Annoyingly, he’s is probably right.
The Elder Son has frozen onto my commuter bike as his preferred form of transport, and was ready to go on a bike tour. This meant moving his saddle over to the commuter and fitting a new wheel with a hub dynamo, something I’ve been meaning to do for ages, but as usual I faffed about and didn’t get on with it.
The wheel intended for the commuter bike was on the Xtracycle, bought as an emergency replacement in January when the original wheel rims finally split after being worn down over twenty years of use. Last week I finally bought a better wheel for the Xtracycle, so now we had to move the wheel on the Xtracycle over to the commuter, after removing the tyre, put the new wheel on the Xtracycle and take the older, dynamo-less wheel off the commuter. this would donate its tyre to the wheel off the Xtracycle before disappearing into the cellar.
Because we can’t do things the normal way, we added another elderly front wheel out of the cellar, and used that to prop each of the bikes in turn as we worked on their wheels. I have no idea why I have so many used bicycle wheels.
There was one interesting moment when I thought the brakes on the commuter were acting up as I couldn’t set them straight, but this was solved by pushing hard on the handlebars, which knocked the wheel in straight and suddenly everything made sense
I then made exactly the same mistake on the Xtracycle, but as we are taught at college, Occupational Therapists don’t make mistakes, we have ‘learning experiences’.
At some point when I’m less embarrassed about it I’ll tell you about the learning experience we had with the brakes and the saddle on the next day…
Beautiful Daughter is now big enough that she doesn’t need a baby seat to travel in the Bakfiets, which means we can carry other things besides the resident small person, and we can go on a ride without Daddy mucking about with a rope for ten minutes to make sure the child seat is properly secured, the Japanese makers having neglected to make it compatible with a Bakfiets for some reason.
The Small One also approves because in her new sitting position she can see what is happening, instead of watching her dad pedaling away. From her point of view, this is a definite improvement.
Once again, I am aiming for a niche audience here.
A while ago, the boys managed to break Youngest Son’s bed, which caused much consternation at the time, but I did finally manage to make a new side piece to replace the one that was broken. Because the bed uses mortise and tenon Joins, I had to transport the rest of the bed about five hundred metres up to the workshop during this process to fit the new section to the existing joins, then haul the lot down to the apartment.
As usual I spent some time massively over-thinking things before realising that all I needed was climbing ropes, blankets and wood clamps. The whole operation went pretty smoothly, so smoothly on fact that I forgot all about it until last night when I found the picture while desperately seeking a blog subject at the end of a quiet week…
Bakfiets being a skip for the day. One of the jobs I’d been planning to do for some time was clearing out the cellar, in particular the smaller sized bikes which are lurking in every corner. Of course the appearance of Beautiful Daughter means the bikes need to remain in place for a while longer; not that I’m complaining, I hasten to add.
There’s still plenty of other stuff down there of course because as we all know cellars are breeding grounds for random and miscellaneous things with no obvious purpose, so last week I made a start on shifting some of the more obviously useless things like a broken bike frame and two large bags full of papers which have been there so long they may well be considered historical artifacts.
Expatriate life is full of glamour.
Ah, the joys of being an international family.
These are the passports Beautiful Wife will have to carry next week when she takes the Boys and beautiful Daughter to visit relatives in Japan*. From Left to right: Beautiful Wife’s Japanese passport, Japanese Passports for the three boys and beautiful Daughter; British passports for three boys and Beautiful Daughter, and finally, a German childs passport for Beautiful Daughter, who qualified herself for German citizenship by being born much later than the boys. It is getting to the point where the passports make a dent in the carry on luggage allowance.
And while I’m on the subject, can someone explain how a British Passport requires several pages of forms, lots of supporting documents, costs about a hundred euros, and takes up to eight weeks, but a German passport takes five minutes to produce** at a tenth of the cost?
*Our biannual contribution to climate change. Sorry…
**Plus a twenty-minute Bakfiets ride to the local town hall with beautiful daughter. It’s tough living here, I tell you…