We now return to the Saga of the Overly Orange Wheels,
last expounded upon in post 6317.
Sisyphus is a sissy.
Over the past couple weeks, I've spent many of my evenings in the warm back yard with my big can of Goof-Off and my darker thoughts, silently scrubbing away at the sidewalls of my orange-painted rims with only the volatile fumes and occasional desert geckoes as company. About 1/3 of the way around the first rim, I realized it would be faster and simpler to just disassemble the wheels, toss the orange rims as far as I could throw them, grab a new set of rims, mask the sides, paint them orange, and re-lace and rebuild the wheels. But noooo, I figured that since I'd already started along this course, I would see it through to its stubborn conclusion, even if it meant expending an
AdventureManCO level of seemingly inefficient effort in the process (with all due respect to the BF Grand Master of Futility).
But I wasn't insane enough to do this all in one shot. So I'd scrub the rim for 10-15 minutes at a time (usually enough to clear four spoke's worth and another layer of skin), then pivot to tinkering with other bikes, including the similarly-hued Specialized that the wheels belong to. So I did get a
lot of other bike work done in parallel with this task.
After a few days, I had the elation of completing one sidewall - with the commensurate realization I was only 1/4 of the way done.
But still I scrubbed, and gradually the stubborn orange paint gave way to gleaming bare aluminum sidewall. And one wheel was finished, so on to the other. I tried to keep my mind off the other more-productive tasks I could have been performing instead such as solving world hunger, writing my memoirs, patching a bin full of inner tubes for needy kids, billing paying clients, or cleaning the garage, but instead I scrubbed away.
And then this afternoon, addled with solvent fumes and sore of fingers, with only a couple hours of sleep due to my son's post-high-school-graduation all-night party, I saw the oncoming train in the end of the tunnel. Could success be so close?
Almost there....
Allllmossstt there...
Whew.
And so it came to pass that after about 8+ cumulative hours of toil, the wheels were now shiny on the sides and fit for service on a caliper-brake bike without gooping, pulsing, surging, howling, or pad-melting (yes, an inspection of the pads in the before condition showed the rubber had actually melted somewhat due to the paint friction).
The Great Pumpkin rides again!!!
(and now you see why I didn't just trade wheels - I wanted to keep the color coordination, only with operational brakes).
And all of this with no effect on my body.
Well, maybe not. It might grow back. And if not, it'll be useful for opening things.
I think I'll ride it
to my shift at Rusty Spoke tomorrow on the PMBC ride Sunday to test everything out. But after all that work, I'm rather unlikely to donate it... yet.
So now what?