As an unexpected off-shoot of hanging with Burn Club, I have begun to build my own bicycle, from scratch. Which is not to say that I'm welding steel together on my mother's rooftop. Um, no. I went to the Bicycle Kitchen, a very cool place on a street with a very silly name.
(Heliotrope.)
(Go ahead and laugh; I'll wait.)
The Bicycle Kitchen is a volunteer bicycle education workshop space, where they give access to tools and expertise to them (and their bikes) what need them. They will also price a "project" for you, which means they will accept a donation in exchange for a bike frame and show you how to build an entire bicycle from it and the various spare parts that they have in the shop.
So awesome! I can't even tell you. Well, okay I can. I'm not the building-est of girls. My tomboy phase was brief and confined to Lego and tree-climbing. I helped build a suspension bridge at camp once (don't ask), but that was mostly sawing and measuring.
But this. This is a thing that I'm building, with my own two hands. And it's going to have a purpose and be a part of my life. It's not a gift, like my embroidery shenanigans. It's not art, like my writing or painting. It's not going to be somewhere *else*. It's going to stay, a part of me. I'm building another part of me.
Also, it's wicked fun. I got dirty!
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