Squeaky Clean

Thank you for the name ideas - I am considering them all and even combinations thereof. I've just never experienced such indecision in naming my inanimate objects before. Clearly this one is special to me.

Lately, though, I find it difficult to envision my new bicycle with any name that doesn't sound like a squeal, or that is otherwise onomatopoeic, because if there is one thing my bicycle knows how to do, it's MAKE NOISE.

Allow me to illustrate. This is what Madison was like before this week:



And then...







Yes, I suspect it joyrides all day without me while I'm in class.

I can still hear it in my mind. It's like any other earworm. Repetitive and tuneless and the vocals are terrible, but you mentally sing along anyway because it allows you to think that you have some semblance of control over your own thoughts.



I'm pretty sure I can use "squeak" as a synonym for "ride my bike" now, as in, "I squeaked over to the store and picked up some squash."

So this week I squeaked to downtown(-ish) Madison. This trip went extraordinarily fast for a few reasons:

* Biking Squeaking is more efficient than walking.

* A good portion of the journey was downhill.

* The brakes are rather selective about when they choose to function.

But I was a warrior with an otherwise reliable steed, so I got there safely, and I met with a family for whom I'll be doing house-cleaning and maaaaaybe some painting and mostly a whole lot of organizing and finding places for things. I love exercising my spatial skill muscles. Putting food in tupperware is one nibble short of an adrenaline rush. It's like edible Tetris and my prize is a pre-made home-cooked meal for tomorrow.

I think my favorite part of the interview experience was when I started to name my price and they raised it. Was I asking too little? Do I really think so poorly of myself? Am I still being underpaid and blissfully unaware? Are they just so grateful for CLEAN?

Or, contrary to my prior fears, I'm a really good negotiator who is so skilled that the negotiating happens like a knife cuts through butter. When it's warm. Without someone having to hold the knife... Or something. Clearly analogizing is a lesser strength.

...I probably shouldn't push it.

Nonetheless, when I rode home, I felt triumphant. I squeaked up the hills, utterly left in the dust of this lovely older gentleman who apparently had more gusto than I... or equally likely, he knew what the little gears on his bicycle do. And I decided to pretend that the squeaky.squeaky.squeaky. that announced my plight was not just a characteristic of a donated bike with a mysterious past life.

No, I prefer to think it's heralding my arrival.



You know, when I finally get there.