Friendly Neighborhood Bike Bar

Apparently all of those little Tron motorcycles I saved for Dicky were little tiny Viking Tron big clown wheeled motorcycles. They decided to pillage and plunder and wreak havoc on my peaceful and efficient normal wheeled Tron motorcycles. My CPU pegged all day and things that should have taken moments were taking minutes, minutes turned to hours, and hours got wasted and I hate that. Talk about aggravation. Then stupid network pushing of updates pegged the CPU more and well I just got fed up. Feeling frustrated, the warm rays of the setting sun reflected on my bike and I decided the day was a wash and I was going to unwind and get a nice ride in before dark.

iPod Shuffle on and out the door. Weaving around the cars and buildings to make it across the always way to traffic laden Cool Springs Blvd, I soon found a groove and was enjoying the tune filled freedom. After crossing Franklin Road and zipping down Mack Hatcher, I saw a mass of debris all over the shoulder (Mack Hatcher is 4 lanes of 55-65 mph non-attentive drivers), I tried to hop and swoop and not become a road pizza, but soon heard the familiar hissing of air. I decided to ride it out, maybe I could make it off the busy road, but it wasn't to be. I had picked up 7 large metal staples, the kind they shoot on roofs to hold down the tar paper. I pulled them out and started hoofing it. I had CO2 and tubes with me, but Harpeth Bicycles was just a half mile away and I knew they had a compressor. I also know they'd let me use the stand and work on my bike. I'd have people to hang with and chat with and make the bad situation a better one. I also secretly hoped they'd have beer.


I hopped the fence (which is a double row fence now for some odd reason) separating the shopping center from Mack Hatcher and made my way into Harpeth. Freddy and Chris were there and immediately welcoming as always. I asked if I could borrow their pump to air up my tire after I changed it. Before I knew it my bike was in the stand and a cold beer in my hand. Now that is service. I made quick work of the fix while they tended to customers, then chilled out there while they closed up shop. Mood immediately brightened and still time to get in a few miles.

Back in the day the bartender used to serve the stereotypical role of listener, friend, therapist, but in my life it's the bike shops that replace that role. Sadly most Nashie shops don't offer the friendly "come hang out" atmosphere. It's all about buying or getting out of the way. MOAB has been a long standout in customer comfort, with stools and a bar to hang and chat with the mechanics, magazines to read, shit to shoot, but they are way over in the 'boro and not on my way home. Harpeth Bicycles sits exactly halfway between home and work and has long been a fantastic source of quick bike aid and a welcoming pit stop on the way home. Chairs, cycling movies, and good conversation. Plus the extra bonus of getting my swiss cheesed tube put to good use, yes they recycle the tubes by teaming up with Alchemy Goods. I even got hooked up with a Selle Italia test saddle (I'm in desperate need of a saddle for TransIowa and DirtyKanza) as they have a fleet of Selle Italia test saddles. Stop in, check them out, hang out, buy some Swiftwicks or a sweet custom steel or ti ride.

So a big (very belated) thanks out to the Harpeth Bicycles crew for always being there and turning my day around. (Check the sidebar Freddy).