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La MTB è in riparazione…deo gracias…e a quanto pare si è fatta meno male della sottoscritta! 😝
Io invece corro come una matta sulla chevrolet darling alla non ci fosse un domani.
Gli affari bisogna prenderli al volo! 😎
Peccato che se si lavora quasi 20 ore al giorno bisogna anche fare i conti con il frigo vuoto e la lavatrice prima o poi…
Questa settimana sono sopravvissuta a latte, biscotti e saikebon notturni e il ciclo malato inizia a vedersi sigh!
Ho sonno…tanto che oggi mi sono coricata 10 minuti alla scrivania ed invece erano passate 2 ore a ronfare….😅
E vabbè dai prima o poi le acque si calmeranno un po’ e potrò godermi un 72 ore di ‘morte cybernetica’ anch’io senza troppi rimorsi…💤🌴🍹🥰

Annunci

Okay, post molto neofita, molto tecnico e molto borioso su MTB retrò e ‘vecchie’. Bear with me.

Ora tutto questo con una premessa:
Di norma faccio giri bisettimanali (se fortunata) di 50-60 km (2, massimo 3 ore).
Se riesco a mantenere questo livello di allenamento arrivo a fine stagione (estate) capace di farne dai 75 agli 80 km senza fatica (dalle 3 alle 3,30 ore, dipende da che percorso scelgo).
In materia di velocità oraria costante vario in tiro duro dai 20/25 ai 30 km/h senza decelerazione di fine stagione.
La mia bici è sicuramente sopra ai 10kg.
Il mio peso corporeo varia dai 55kg ai 50kg, compreso lo sviluppo muscolare.
Un anno (quello della fine stagione con percorsi da 75/80km) sono arrivata addirittura a 49kg, praticamente ero pelle, ossa e prosciutti al posto delle gambe.

In teoria sono senza bici da 10 giorni, in pratica no.

Il mio ‘cancello’ preferito è da rifare totalmente davanti, dietro, sopra e sotto.
Il telaio era dei primi anni ’90 robusto come un ‘cancello’ appunto ma pesante per gli standard attuali e non sembra essersi fatto nulla a parte qualche graffio in più.
Purtroppo le leve, i fili del freno, e cerchione in alluminio da 26′ sono in stato pietoso. Il manubrio tubolare di ferro si è piegato visibilmente.

Il cambio uno shimano SIS tricorona con cassetta filetto a 6 velocità e catena grande sono riuscita a salvarlo ma era già da qualche anno che avevo intenzione di sostituirlo quindi…

Configurazione ora.
Tricorona 28-38-48T
Cassetta posteriore 14-28T

Se parliamo di sviluppo metrico la mia MTB si poteva già considerare una ‘ibrida’ perché sul piano in rapporto duro (48/14) riuscivo a fare 7,14 m abbondanti ad ogni giro del pedale e senza particolare fatica anche in leggera salita.
Sul rapporto agile (28/28)arrivavo a 2,02 m e di norma lo usavo solo con inclinazioni peggio che proibitive.

Ora…il mio desiderio nascosto è aumentare lo sviluppo metrico del rapporto duro.
Non sono particolarmente amante delle corone giganti quindi la mia idea era mantenere la vecchia impostazione e modificare il dietro (che in termini di sviluppo metrico conta di più di cosa si usa davanti) ma le mie buone speranze sono andate a P****.
Il mercato si è spostato sulle bicorone o monocorone con cambi posteriori a cassetta da 9/10/11/12 velocità.
Se volessi un rapporto 12/32 dietro sarei obbligata a cambiare la ruota posteriore per intero (l’unica che non si è fatta troppo male) oltre al resto.

L’unica opzione disponibile per ora è un cambio a filetto Sunrace vecchia scuola offertomi da un tizio, capace di portarmi a 7 velocità con 13/28 sul vecchio cerchio.
Sviluppo metrico duro 7,70 m (un buon mezzo metro!)

Ma col cambio del rapporto dietro sono obbligata anche a cambiare la catena da grande a sottile e qui il grande dubbio: la catena sottile sulla guarnitura 48/38/28 funziona?! Se sì come? Bene o male?
È meglio cambiare anche le corone?
Ed il deragliatore posteriore??
I comandi del cambio? (Il SIS montava anche cassette a 8v…mah?)

Dubbi amletici da non dormire la notte, giuro.

Intanto domani vado a recuperare un ‘cancello’ nuovo regalato e rimasto a prendere la polvere degli ultimi cinque anni.
L’ho già cavalcato e ho solo una cosa da dire: Lo odio ma sempre meglio che girarsi i pollici.
Per cronaca ha tre corone con ruote da 26 anche questo ma di massima 42t e la cassetta dietro 14/28, come il mio.
Sviluppo metrico duro 6,25 m
Ciò significa pedalate su pedalate ed ancora pedalate…per fare molta meno distanza.
In più ha una sella che dopo mezz’ora le chiappe doloranti sono il centro e culmine dei tuoi pensieri.

Oh…sarò di nuovo sulla strada presto…
Più lenta e con le emorroidi…
Ma sulla strada! 🚴🏻‍♀️💪🏻😎

MTB fracassata grazie ad una portiera apertami praticamente in faccia.
Ero ai 20 all’ora verso i 25 in accelerazione.
Immaginate la botta e come si sente la mia spalla destra…giuro che sono più incazzata per la mia povera bici.

Fracassata!

Tastiera del portatile che non risponde più nemmeno in hard reset.
Desktop che fa freeze nei momenti più impensati (quando ho bisogno di salvare la grafica appena finita, ovvio!)
Chevrolet darling senza benzina…

Questo è il succo della mia settimana precedente…poi chiedetemi perché ho un piede di porco.

Ti stamattina mi ha lanciato un’occhiata fugace ed è scappato dalla mia aura come se avessi un drago pronto a sputare fuoco.
Altro che Daenerys…

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Update

UT è al capitolo 19 ora….buona lettura!

4523

Pompa della benzina morta sulla chevrolet darling dopo nemmeno sei mesi dalla sostituzione…se ci ho fatto 8000 chilometri dico tanto davvero.

*Avrei tanto voglia di urlare ma conto fino a 10*

*La crocetta sulla mia ossuta e liscia fronte non fa cenno a diminuire*

*Il soppracciglio va su e giù a tic nervoso*

*E troppo, sgancio la cintura di sicurezza ed esco*

Apertura cofano posteriore e rimestaggio finché non trovo la chiave che apre tutte le porte ovvero il piede di porco per le evenienze funeste.

Trovato quello facciamo partire la Chevrolet darling con un po’ di culo e intelligenza quindi vado in cerca di quella testa di ca**o di meccanico che mi ha sostituito la pompa.

Cazzo ho millemila cose da fare!

Sometimes the past labeled ‘Hate’ comes back.
It’s like pushing the trigger of a gun.
The bullet is released and the sound of the shot just cracks in the still air.

For me it can only come back with songs, now.
It’s a good thing ‘cause I control pretty much anything I hear these days for technology is wonder.
Today I wasn’t that lucky and I hate when it happens.

For it’s just songs, not even that good for my tastes, never really liked but still kept in an old music archive.
It was barely 40 minutes – now agony – you said you liked.
Pop, hardly meaning anything profound.

Today it just went straight to my head,
with all those months thinking anything but rationally.
All those years mourning practically nothing.
Me, my cups and the fucking hope.
The sinister glint in my eyes under a canopy of trees long forgotten.
I truly hated for I wasn’t myself.
Search, find and destroy.

———————————-

I thank daily every deity for I am still here on this Earth.
For I find I’m not bitter if my triggers stay unreleased.
For if I have known ‘hate’ I did bid it goodbye a long time ago.
I never searched for you, never I will.
I don’t care anymore and in a way it amuses me how needs and feelings can change.
Life.
Sometimes I feel a little blue, I write/work all night (Yes, I write, I still do that!), Consume my poor Chevrolet darling, find the time to nurture and watch my orchids flourish.
Bright colours, fluorescent skies, rolling hills in pale green, the ticking of my bike going down at full speed.
The sounds of morning, sun on my windshield.
It feels like change.
I do have changed in ways I doubt you would understand.
For I love, I share and I try to help.
The past made me what I am.
And it won’t return.

Update

UT è al capitolo 18 ora….buona lettura!

Coexisting in life is never easy.

We humans have so many ways of thinking and seeing things and taking critics.

Sometimes you just try honestly to help and all you receive is scorn for ‘YOU are not sharing MY views, admit it!’

Of course I see what you see, but I also see what I see, and possibly have an opinion of what the rest could see…truthful or polluted it may be.

There are days I truly resent helping for I know what I will gain.

Other days I help and stay silent and regret.

Truth and pain walk on the same cobble street often.

Family is family, I guess.

30/30

He had simply left, his power gone, his money not.

Went for far away refuges, man amongst men speaking many tongues.

Fought  for wavering rightful causes, cried for solid dreams made of clay.

Bittersweet the day he returned where no-one remembered the slick handsome beast now made man and scarred by truths.

Years had left lines on his noble profile and wear on his clothes, specks of early silver in his hair.

Heart beating a stoic rhythm under tanned skin, eyes placid and mindful.

Steps surer in a long ago city he still remembered but no more owned or wanted.

The old concrete, the harsh light reflecting in the windows high above.

Summer was in full swing as the roses in the park bloomed and died in the span of a few hours.

Sickly sweet wisteria hanging limply from balconies, children running amok in the muddy shore by the lake.

Every path freshly covered in grey gravel.

He found that afternoon to be a shade of lie he could stand, softly blurring the edges of his vision; a picturesque world long gone.

Grass bending gently to the breeze, white jasmine flowers weaved in crowns over young girls hair.

The pale green of her dress was the first thing he saw.

Tiny bare feet peeked through the hem and hid in the grass as the leaves overhead moved.

Peaceful sleep softened her features, the dark silk of her hair cushioned her head, lavender wafting gently to his nose.

Was she part of that sunny lie?

Cold as winter, so long gone.

There he sat, patience now his to nurture.

The sun slowly descending, bright amber green rays on her face.

A hand in his lap while she yawned and stretched like a cat.

Eyes on him, sharp and searching, half-relief half-suspicion in the steel gray.

You never told me your name, Nemesis.

Her smile true, her voice soft.

You never asked yet you find me, Narcissus.

Fin

1 § 2 § 3 § 4 § 5 § 6 § 7 § 8 § 9 § 10 § 11 § 12 § 13 § 14 § 15 § 16 § 17 § 18 § 19 § 20 § 21 § 22 § 23 § 24 § 25 § 26 § 27 § 28 § 29 § 30

29/?

She walked and walked under the sun.

Of course she already knew of the High Castle’s fire but nothing more.

The voices of before now gone.

Mirrors erased.

Doubts taking hold.

Quicksilver eyes lost into reverie.

They called him Adone, still.

The thought saddened her to the very core.

As if a side of the beast survived when I know it did not.

Stubborn like a goat, quick like a fox, mindful like a wolf on the hunt.

Slaved to a living lie.

Sun scorched her dark hair like a flame and she reposed under a tree.

And what dreams you dream, fairer lady amongst fair?

1 § 2 § 3 § 4 § 5 § 6 § 7 § 8 § 9 § 10 § 11 § 12 § 13 § 14 § 15 § 16 § 17 § 18 § 19 § 20 § 21 § 22 § 23 § 24 § 25 § 26 § 27 § 28 § 29

28/?

“Have you heard about Adone, dear?”

“Do tell!”

Pointed chins, diamonds and  pearls on thin necks, little bifurcated tongues wetting fat lips.

“Seems he went absolutely bonkers, such a fine handsome man he was…” a sharp turn of a perfectly manicured hand with two-inch claws “You remember that little, insignificant, mangy, blind girl? Yes, just the one with those dull eyes…so scary…seems she died.”

“Shame.” I don’t care in the slightest…but do tell me more!

Smile before another drop of evil fell from painted lips “Indeed! Such intelligence and handsomeness thrown away just for a little stupid no-one…well, seems my perfect son – you know my kind depraved, invincible coward, strong weakling darling! – was out with friends one of these nights doing what good, young gentlemen ought to do and…you know the High Castle, that beautiful place he had was heaping with flames. Mind! It was the finest for a bachelor house, the grandeur, the richly furnished bar, the beautiful soirees…at least before he stumbled on that little rat.”

A pause while sipping white tea.

“Did he die?”

“He wasn’t there, they say. No-one knows…maybe he found his way under a slab to find her!”

Dry high laughter while pointy tails swished gaily from the shadows projecting on the wall.

Or maybe you should try the weight of the slab you so desire.

A pair of orbs smoldered in the tea shop, a rough voice lethal in the racket.

The sun-drenched room went frigidly cold as the two old hens stood agape at the very same dead rat.

Eyes burned in her lean face, pale but very much alive.

Little but imposing, her chin up and nostrils wide, natural red lips thinned in deadly fury.

I think you need some more fun activities in your miserable life.

Her voice had a cutting edge, low and final before she took for the door.

Starting now.

The heavy tablecloth took on fire like tinder on their faces and soon the place smelled of burned flesh.

1 § 2 § 3 § 4 § 5 § 6 § 7 § 8 § 9 § 10 § 11 § 12 § 13 § 14 § 15 § 16 § 17 § 18 § 19 § 20 § 21 § 22 § 23 § 24 § 25 § 26 § 27 § 28

27/?

Winter thawed in mud and decay.

He didn’t watch.

The casket lid splattered in sodden earth.

Silence and sounds of misery.

He still had more than any man or woman could want.

He didn’t have what he wanted above all.

The high castle a dark cave, echoing his steps.

He couldn’t find the mirror, solace to make him blind.

What would it be in its depths now?

Sun-blinded eyes over water.

White cherry flowers floating in sewers.

High ceilings encased in flames of lead.

Yet searching for a neon-lit name mounted over the grand entrance of Limbo.

1 § 2 § 3 § 4 § 5 § 6 § 7 § 8 § 9 § 10 § 11 § 12 § 13 § 14 § 15 § 16 § 17 § 18 § 19 § 20 § 21 § 22 § 23 § 24 § 25 § 26 § 27

26/?

She fell ill.

Mercury spouted in big mouthfuls, silvery venomous pools.

Some days she couldn’t see at all, others her mind was blind.

She never crazed, never fevered, never closed her eyes.

Adone watched while her skin took a grainy quality and almost glowed in the night.

A drop of silver on her lower dry lip.

Her voice cracked like static.

Have you found your name?

No.

There is power…in a name.

Power?

Give yourself a name and you might be found.

Her hand twitched and fell from his fingers.

The deamon-eyed shrew never drew another breath for she became moonlit stone.

1 § 2 § 3 § 4 § 5 § 6 § 7 § 8 § 9 § 10 § 11 § 12 § 13 § 14 § 15 § 16 § 17 § 18 § 19 § 20 § 21 § 22 § 23 § 24 § 25 § 26

Bite hard at life.

Use your teeth and take big chunks.

Sometimes the pressure is so strong you think you’re gonna lose a few.

Don’t loosen the hold.

You’re going to pull through.

Most of the times failing something is predestined by the noise in our own heads as Ti says.

Work is hard and pressing?

Keep your head down and remain focused.

Don’t stray with ‘what if’s’ don’t lose your mind on unimportant details.

Do. The. Work. And. Bite. Your. Bit. As. Hard. As. Needed.

Then you can relax and enjoy the sun and the wind and il ritmo perpetuo of the world around you.

There’s no rewards without work consuming your bones under the sun.

This is a truth I learned in the last couple of years and I’ve never been more happy to be awake very late hours just to finish what was on the agenda and then awake at 11 o’clock the next day with the relaxing knowledge that I finished the work and I had the next 72 hours free.

I work too much, this week has been just hell.

But rewarding, exhausting and fun.

Fin.

Happy Easter my darlings!

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