Suddenly, spring came upon us. Not the demure spring that sometimes arrives in a cozy sweatshirt, confused about what shoes she should wear. This spring came on shamelessly in a midriff-baring top, short-shorts, and flip-flops (lots of hyphens here), sporting shocking pink toenail polish!
80 degrees on March 26.
The bike shop is still reeling from the cold that gripped Chicago from mid-January through most of February. Each winter takes a toll, threatening to put us out of business. We can usually count on the die-hard commuters to keep the heart beating. But when the cold persists beyond a week, we start to lose even those hardy souls. Then, the only breathing bodies that visit the shop are those who suffer from buyer's remorse, and come in to get a refund...
The skeletal crew remains, but eventually those who can get income elsewhere take a voluntary leave. No one will ever come in a buy another thing from us again.
80 degrees on March 26. It is five minutes to 10. The saucily clad young woman with pink toes is rattling the bike shop gates. Behind her a tightly squeezed throng of cycling enthusiasts is waiting to burst through the door. The skeletal crew on the inside braces for impact.
The season has officially begun. From year to year, we never really know when that day will arrive. It has come as early as middle of February, and as late as tax day in April, but has never failed to catch us with our cycling shorts only half-way up. We beg your pardon and your patience if you happen to catch us on such a day. You can always visit us earlier in the year, when we can give you royal treatment and undivided attention.
Otherwise, take a number, put a smile on your face, and please bear with us as we compose ourselves. Spring's here!
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