On Near Death Experience. Not Really.

Did I tell you that my new bike tried to kill me? I've had the thing for seven weeks – two of which I didn't even ride it – and it tried to kill me.

I was riding to work, pumping my way up West 59th St. a couple weeks back and the seat post of my bike bent the seat tube – tore it like it was a piece of paper! – and nearly dumped me onto the street.

I got lucky, and managed not to fall over and break my head. Thank god.

So anyway, I took the bike to the dealer where I bought it, and the clerk to whom I returned it said, "I've been working here for 7 years and I've never seen anything like this." And, of course, they decided it was my fault.

No shite.

But they're my pals, so they're doing me the "favor" of giving me a new frame, and only charging me for the shipping of the new frame, and the labor required to strip all the parts off the old frame and add them to the new frame.

To the tune of $125.00 $137.00.

Gee, aren't I lucky? I'm so grateful to be doing business which such swell, stand-behind-your-products type people. The kind who'll go so far out of their way to satisfy a customer, never fearing/caring that said customer is taking any and every future accessory and bike purchase to the dealer down the street.