no story really ever ends at happily ever after . . .
and yesterday's story wasn't truly complete: I left out some crucial information.
a writer must craft her stories, you know, and thus there are times when she is forced to withhold certain facts or events. at other times she fabricates and purposely confuses, all in the art of storytelling.
now I've heightened your expectations and I fear the story that follows will not meet them, but it is the truth of the matter, and I will weave you through it in the most entertaining method I can conjure up.
at about the mid-point of yesterday's story, when our cyclist was despondent over her sleeping cyclometer and said cyclometer feared its destiny would never be fulfilled, our cyclist went for a long ride. she rode with a friend, upon whom she relied for all ride information: speed, elevation, time elapsed, and most important of all, distance. her heart rate, however, she was able to track on her own, as she had magically been able to pair her heart monitor with the cyclometer, and they communicated beautifully. this single working aspect of the cyclometer gave her hope that one day, possibly, the entire computer would jump on board and give her everything its box had promised.
after this long ride our cyclist undertook, she changed out of her riding clothes at this friend's home, and carefully (or less so) placed all of her riding gear and paraphernalia in the duffel bag she'd brought.
later that night, at home, she unpacked the duffel bag and took her handful of cycling clothing (jacket, jersey, sports bra, tights, socks....) and threw them in the washing machine. when the machine finished its wash/rinse/spin cycles, our cyclist opened the lid and began moving things out, either placing them in the dryer or hanging them to dry, depending upon the item. halfway through she reached in to grab the next item, and touched something hard. hard? what could that be?
it was hard, and long and flattish and attached to a stretchy strap and . . . yep, that was her heart monitor strap that just got its little guts washed out in the washing machine. water, soak, soap, swish, swirl, more water, spin . . .
the single, solitary working component of the beautiful (but apparently dysfunctional) cyclometer was now
our cyclist does, of course, have another heart monitor, which she uses, but it will never be able to communicate with the fancy new cyclometer that came in that spiffy black and red box.
so, back to happily ever after.
as you now know, there is just one little kink in our cyclist's happily ever after story. but she is certain she will eventually overcome that kink, when she breaks down and contacts Blackburn and orders a replacement part for her fancy new cyclometer that has taught her so very many lessons.
and then will come the day when she'll learn how to program the altimeter, and push the right buttons to start and stop the trip odometer, and change her display screen, and access all the other capabilities trapped inside that fancy new cyclometer.
and then, we are sure, our cyclist and her happy, completely functional cyclometer will truly live happily, ever, after.