Zen and the art of SPENDING LOTS OF CIZZ-ASH!
I took my motorcycle out from under its cover last weekend, and started getting it ready to ride. Like many other things in life, owning a bike can be a source of guilt if you’re inclined that way. I *did* put my motorcycle under a cover, but I *didn’t* pull the battery and attach it to a trickle charger over the winter. Nor did I, as one site suggests, drop the carbuerator float bowl and empty the gasoline inside. Nor did I drain the fluids, put molybdenum lubrication grease on the real axle bearing, or disassemble the bike into its constituent parts, pack each part into a velvet-lined jewel case, and store the cases in a climate-controlled environment, cleaning occasionaly with a wooden-handled pig bristle brush.
My challenge now is to keep from feeling guilty about that, and at the same time to keep my aggressive not-feeling-guilty agenda from bleeding into other parts of my life, as I have a dentist appointment soon. “No, I DON’T floss after every meal! You got a problem with that, Doctor bee-yotch?”
I am, however, going to change the oil this weekend, for which I need a couple of new tools. My old toolbox, with my crappy old five-dollar socket set, seems to have mercifully vanished some time in the past five years, so I’m going to pick up a new 3/8″ drive metric socket set. “Buy the best tools you can afford!” say the experts, and boy, am I ever ready to agree. So I start out by stopping by the hardware store on the way to Penn Station after work: “do you have a three-eighths-inch metric socket set?” I ask, and am presented with a twenty-dollar shrink-wrapped package of uncertain ancestry with Engrish on the label. Turning up my nose, I go to Sears the next day: forty dollars for a Craftsman set, but it comes in a twee plastic case with a little window on the top. Humph! Surely someone like me, someone who really appreciates the importance of good tools (when working on your bike twice a year) should look for something just a little more… you know…
…yeah, I know, too. Expensive. Heavy, with, like, better knurling on the handles or something. So I go to Snap-On ’cause that’s what I hear everybody drools over, and I find the socket set I’m looking for, pictured at right a “set, general service, metric, 6-point), for FOUR HUNDRED ELEVEN DOLLARS AND NINETY-FIVE CENTS.
What’s that, Doctor? Floss after every meal? Yes, I’m very sorry. I will, I promise. Excuse me, I have to go to Sears and pick up my new tools.