Symmetry

My mother was telling me about a phone-in radio show she had been listening to, the kind where the host tells people how to "fix" their problems. The phone call she heard was from a wife who wanted three kids. She and her husband currently had two but the husband did not want to have another child.

"What are his reasons?" asked the host.

The lady replied, "He's an engineer. He doesn't like the fact that if we went to a theme park, we'd take up three cars and someone would have to sit by themselves."

The show continued.

As my mother relayed this information to me, after a particularly trying episode with the resident family engineer, we both knew the lady stood no chance. It was the simple explanation she gave. My husband is an engineer. End of story. She either had to have two or four kids. Three was untidy and left loose ends. There was no way a true engineer was going to have an unsymmetrical family. Unsymmetrical flower arrangements, yes, odd number of family members that caused havoc at theme parks, no. (And in envisioning the argument about who has to sit by themselves, he has a point.)

It's funny how symmetry creeps in when you least expect it. On the last bike shopping expedition, it became downright eerie how everything came full circle.

The bike expert and I met up at the bus stop. "Do you think that Subway's open? I didn't have time for lunch." I thought it was so we hit subway and then hit the bike stores.

We were on the last leg of our bike hunt and as we're looking around a store, the expert says, "Does it feel different this time?" I blinked. I hadn't thought about it and I wasn't too sure of what I was supposed to be thinking. It must have shown that I hadn't a clue what he was referring to. He raised his eyebrows, "This is the first shop we went in." Right, check, opps. It did feel different. This time I knew what I was talking about, well almost..

Last time, the expert had waxed on about rims and tires and the engineering concepts behind the different sizes and treads. This time he explained the theory behind spokes and how to make them aerodynamic, and light. As we gazed at the bike suspended above our heads, I carefully noted that the spokes on one side had to bow out while on the other they were flush with the line of the bike.

Last time, the shop clerk had hurried us out because the store was about to close. This time the shop clerk wasn't too helpful and we hurried out because quite frankly, the store was starting to scare us. So we headed to the next store, which happened to be the next store we had gone to last time.

Last time, after I was wrapping up looking at bikes, the expert had gotten distracted and gone to look at running gear. He's one of those annoyingly fit people - the kind that do marathons for fun. Not the kind that are pleased to finish the marathon but the kind that finish it with a really good time and then jog home. He had a marathon coming up for which he needed new gear. I never realised before what a difficult thing it was buying running gear. There's different fabrics, different cuts, different colour schemes, and brands. It was great to watch someone else agonize over the details. Normally it's me. It was even more fun to be able to offer advice about something I knew nothing about. I couldn't help with the technical aspect but I could help with the fashion. "You can't wear those shorts with that top. It doesn't match." Silly thing to say. We then had to determine if the matching top matched too much. Try and explain that to a sales clerk. End result - just the shorts.

This time, as I was wrapping up buying the bike, Simon wandered off again to look at gear. He did the half marathon - he did well. Now he's doing a triathlon. I'm pretty sure he'll do the iron man next. My part was again helpful, "Wrong colour." End result - two tops. (Which for those of you keeping track will match the shorts.)

We'd promised to meet a friend up for a concert but buying a bike is hard work. We were exhausted. "We're coming later. Sorry."

We met up at the same bus stop. Simon greeted me, "Do you think Subway's still open?" I looked at him in horror. "Didn't you have time for dinner?" A giant grin spread across his face.

As we got on the bus, the bus driver gave us a funny look. "You two have already been on my bus today!" Sure enough, it was the same bus driver, from the same bus stop, going in the same direction to the same destination.

And then as we left the concert, we ran into the salesperson who had sold me my bike. It felt complete.

The entire bike buying experience had come full circle.

I have a bike.

The expert has a running outfit.

There was completeness and symmetry. No loose ends.