The Pedal Pusher has been my LBS of choice for almost 2 years. I haven’t kept track of the exact figures, but its probably safe to say that I could have bought a new bike or two by now if I hadn’t spent the money on parts and lube and tubes and tires and that Surly t-shirt that embarrasses Christie so much. This past Saturday I went in to buy brake pads for the all-rounder, but just ’round the end of the road bike aisle I found a couple Long Haul Truckers and a Fuji Touring. So I stood there for a while, shifting my gaze from one to the other.
“You’ve been drooling over a new tourer for 2 years. Just put one on layaway.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Layaway. Who does that anymore? Two years and I had no idea.
A little while later……
“So they have a layaway program at the bike shop.”
“So?” She’s never impressed with bike shop stories.
“So I can put a new touring bike on layaway.”
“With what money?” God, she’s really good at pooping all over the party.
“What if I quit smoking?” WTF did I just say? Crap. “I could use my cancer stick money to pay for the bike.”
Christie was elated. After careful consideration I downloaded some Surly wallpaper to keep me motivated.
Smoked the last one last night. After everyone else was asleep, I grabbed a beer and sat down on the front porch. It was almost like saying goodbye to an old friend. You know? That old friend with the knife in your back or the mistress who demands more and more money lest she tells your wife. Gah! I’m an idiot. Please, if you value your sanity, don’t ever, EVER calculate how much money you’ve burned up. And then, don’t try to figure out what else you could have done with it.
I’ve quit before. Once for a couple years. For the record, any time I’ve ever quit for more than a couple days I’ve done it “cold turkey”. Patches and gum never worked for me, but that’s probably because I didn’t really want to quit. I like smoking. I like the way the smoke from the first one of the day makes my lungs tighten up. I like the smell when I open a new pack. I like the way it makes me look cool and the way my clothes smell in the morning and how my teeth are a nice shade of beige instead of boring old white. Grrr. But I always come back. Because I like it.
Tangible. Now there’s a new weapon in the arsenal. It’s something real and fun and I want it. I have motivation. A goal. New toys, man! There has never been something tangible as my reward for stopping something I never shoulda started. (“If you stop hitting your sister, you can have some chocolate.” That works so well with kids.) I hope it helps, because I really want that bike. And trading something that will probably kill me after I give it all my money for something that might last a couple decades and make me healthier in the process doesn’t sound too bad.
So, yeah. I’m a quitter and so far today sucks.