Emasculated Emperor Wang

I just discovered that I smashed to smithereens my time trialing disc wheel. That would have actually been cool -- to have it explode in shards everywhere as I mated my skin to pavement at 40km/h. When I explained the problem with the wheel, the man at the wheel factory replied over the phone "delaminated" in an authoritative contralto. Imagine someone from Minnesota saying "delaminated" over the phone! Enfeebled by his surety, I apologised for destroying his fine product and hung up. Should have asked for a replacement!

At any rate, a friend has offered to help fix my wheel. He is a mechanically gifted chap. I love these people like sacred earrings, like sweet Siberian sunsets, like ecstatic Slavic handshakes. He is going to use some piece of equipment called a "dremmel" which I imagine as a great whirring collection of blades, electrical zaps, and furious vibrations. Also, he mentioned "epoxy" and "fibreglass" which I understood, and therefore detracted somewhat from the alchemical resonance of "dremmel"ing my hub. Nonetheless, I can envisage his fastidious legerdemain with great pleasure.

But if that doesn't work out (as many of my riding buddies have greeted my explanation with pessimism -- a "delaminated" wheel is apparently unfixable) then I shall have to reinvest in another disc. It could be worse, I could be a chef for dogs or a Bulgarian poet or something like that.

~ Buzz Landslide ~