My bike was twisted and I am bitter – hence the following rant – bear with me, it will be short.
- Removers crushed my bicycle when we moved to NZ.
The movers shrugged their shoulders and pointed to the insurers.
The insurers spent three months trying all avenues to avoid paying.
Stream of notated photos, techincal reference material from self eventually prompts cheque for two/thirds replacement value.
Took bike to posh bike shop on posh street for quote; they said they’d ring me with one.
Ten days later, called them for an update and was told ‘The bike’s ready’.
Arrived at shop to be ignored in favour of those spending $4k on shiny new road bikes.
When asked why job was done when I had asked for a quote first, no answer given.
Rashly paid without checking work as shop was busy and I was pissed off & wanted out.
Checked bike at home to find incomplete and ill-advised slap-dash repairs.
Turned air blue and cursed self for not listening to abdominal warning signs when first visiting posh bike shop on posh street.
Took bike to local mountain bike shop where nice couple treated me with respect, talked about what I used bike for, spoke confidently and honestly about sourcing spares and the time needed, discussed alternative bike scene and offered heaps of friendly advice.
Kicked myself black and blue for:
not going to local mountain bike shop in the first place as I had planned to do in December.
not insisting on fork replacement (as-new repairs are impossible and are potentially dangerous if stressed metal fails).
not kicking up a stink in the shop and embarrassing the smarmy buggers.
- Resolved to purge poisonous feelings and shame my own stupidity/lack of balls by blogging the whole sorry episode.
Moral of the story: When it comes to bike shops, listen to your gut.
I’m off to a barbeque to chill out, have a beer and hopefully meet up with our UK-based Kiwi friends, currently back in NZ to visit family.
Categorised as: Ponderings