An Unfinished Life.

Going into my garage these days is like personal tour of failure.
 
Tucked into the stacks of kids bikes and skis sits my bike work stand. If you dance around the debris and semi-filled boxes that litter the floor, ducking your head to avoid the many road bikes and the awkward trail-a-bike that hang from the ceiling, you'll see the stand holds the titanium bike project. Tacked together, but nowhere near complete. A couple hours of uninterrupted wrenching time and it would be ready for Craigslist. It was originally supposed to go to the Arctic Bike Club swap, but I simply ran out of time.
 
Among the hanging bikes that threaten you with traumatic brain injury sits my Ridley. Completely built, as clean as it's been in years, and ready to sell. That was supposed to go to the swap, but an Odyssean group ride kept me from selling anything this year. It's just as well, because it also meant I didn't buy anything either.
 
A couple hooks over is a very pretty Madone 6.9 frame, which is supposed to be my road race bike this year. I have yet to bolt a part onto it, even though race season has started.
 
One notch over is my other Madone 6.9, which still has the broken derailleur adjuster from a couple years back. Another project that would be easy to complete if I could find a little time.
 
Tucked in the trainer dungeon are a couple sets of carbon tubular wheels, with the tubulars all ready to be mounted. Again, just need a few hours to check that one off the list.
 
If you've made it this far, chances are you've tripped over that set of disc cyclocross wheels that were destined for the bike swap as well. You've stubbed your toes on the square taper 'cross crankset. The compact road crankset. Any number of other random parts that have some higher intended purpose that I haven't helped them realize.
 
The whole garage is piled with projects just waiting for me to do something. Anything.


A visual history of my failures to finish a task once started.
 
It's ironic that I've spent the whole winter working on sprinting, which is a skill used for finishing a race. Yet I can't seem to complete much of anything. My skills as a closer seem to be lacking.
 
This weekend I hope to find a couple hours to start whittling away at the pile. Even knocking out a couple of the easy ones will free up valuable floor space, so passing through the garage won't require a Risk Assessment Statement of Acknowledgement. Just a couple glorious hours of tinkering away, of re-organizing the stacks of boxes in a way that facilitates future progress...
 
Every little bit helps.


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