I seem to have the WORST luck with bike mechanics. This could be in part to my overly picky nature. Ok, I'm sure that's part of it. Since moving to Madison I have had nothing but bad luck with my bikes. If you had encountered some of the janky work I have you'd be picky too. But I digress...
I sort of luck out that one of my favorite people (and good friend) happens to be a ROCKSTAR bike mechanic. Only unlucky part is that now that I am in Madison he is close to an hour and a half away. Sacrifices must be made for quality, so it's totally worth the drive.
After yet another bike mishap or two, it was off to Milwaukee I go. Admittedly one of the issues was no one's fault. Spokes break. But the other was definitely much more questionable.
I made plans to meet my mechanic of choice at 7pm at the shop. I roll in a few minutes late (how was I to know there was a Brewer's game???) to find out he's not there. Hmmm. I call. I text. No answer. A fellow employee of his and friend of mine, Matt, calls. He texts. I chat and hang out to pass the time. I pace the store. I clean up displays and straighten clothes.... Señor Queso is MIA! Just shy of 8pm Matt decides to try calling the house line. Wouldn't you know, Señor Queso he fallen asleep!! Matt had grandma wake up him so that he could get his butt in gear. HE HAD FALLEN ASLEEP!!! WTF!?! Strike 1 Señor Queso!