Sometimes it really is who you know

I'd deciced that the line down the front fork of my bike might be a crack, which isn't the sort of thing to take chances with. When carbon fiber fails, things can get ugly fast. I can't help thinking about what could've happened had it given out three weeks ago, hurtling downhill at 30+ mph, doubting whether I was gonna make it around the curve, my rear tire starting to slip out from under me as I tried to bring my speed back under control, a farm tractor trundling up the hill in the lane I was certain I was heading for. (Somehow I'd made it; I swear it must've been my guardian angel, because I thought for sure I'd lost it.)

At any rate, last Thursday we were enjoying a couple brews with our friend who'd wiped out earlier the day of my close call, breaking his scapula and collapsing a lung (ouch!). So I figure I'll probe the group's collective expertise concerning my fork. The young lady (she's 25 or so, the daughter of one of my friends) pipes up right away: it seems the cycling shop where she works has the exact fork I've been looking at online, which someone had bought and returned the previous week because it was the wrong size for their bike. It couldn't be sold as new, having already been cut to length; she was certain it'd fit my bike.

Sure enough, I was able to get a clearance price on the exact component I'd decided on, and with installation it cost less than the fork itself would have run me otherwise.

(Thanks, God!)