I took another sip of my coffee, now cold, and made a face. Drinking cold coffee had never bothered me before, but this just wasn't as tasty when it wasn't hot anymore. I could microwave it, I suppose, but wasn't that supposed to be bad for it? Maybe I'd just go pick up another on my way to get the bike.
Bend had no shortage of bike stores, as I found out from a quick search online, but not many carried the Specialized brand I was looking for. While I could have called ahead to see if they had what I wanted in stock, I kind of suspected they didn't - but I could use it as an opportunity to at least pick up some of the riding essentials.
I punched the location into my van's dash-mounted navigation unit and pulled down the privacy screens, climbing into the driver's seat and hearing the diesel engine thrum to life. A fifteen minute drive later, I parked in front of a bike shop catering to mountain biking enthusiasts. The parking lot was filled with offroad-capable vehicles and a steady stream of people were going in and out. I may not like people, but this was exactly where I needed to be to get my gear.
Double-checking my attire, I stepped into the back and awkwardly strapped the bra back on. If I was going to test-ride a bike, I needed those cannons under control. Otherwise, t-shirt and leggings? Good enough. I slipped my phone into one pocket of the leggings and my credit card into the other, exiting the van and locking it behind me. Walking in, I noticed a slight pause in conversations before they resumed, and I used the silence to quickly glance around at the bike selection.
Bend Cycle Shop had a lot of variety, but a little less on the high end than I was hoping for. That said, a dealer with this much inventory should be able to rush a purchase for something expensive. I grabbed a basket and began going browsing, finding myself drawn toward different brands than normal while tossing riding pants and shorts, jerseys, and a wind shell into the basket. I followed it up with knee and elbow pads, as well as a full-face helmet.
Walking over to the sales counter, I caught the attention of the older gentleman working there. He looked to be probably in his 40s or 50s, a gray beard and dreadlocks, cargo shorts, and a t-shirt endorsing the use of recreational mushrooms. He absolutely checked out my tits, but otherwise did his best to maintain eye contact. "Welcome to Bend Cycle Shop, my name is Greg, I'm the co-owner. How can I help you today? Ready to check out?"
"Hey, I'm actually looking for a few more things. I had a - well - let's just say that some life events happened and I lost all of my gear." Life events. Yeah, that's a good cover story. "So I'm definitely grabbing all of this, but also want to buy a new bike to replace the lost one. And I couldn't find a chest protector that fit."
He seemed to take that as encouragement to stare at my chest, which took an awkwardly long time. Seriously, for like thirty seconds he just straight up stared at my tits. Didn't say a word, just a glazed look on his face. Hello? We were talking.
Greg coughed awkwardly, glancing back up at me finally. "I'm sorry to say that I don't think we have anything in stock that would fit your chest. I could take your measurements, but I've got a pretty good eye for size and I'd say you're probably in the neighborhood of a 36DD?"
My jaw dropped. I mean, he was wrong, but close. How in the world? Did this guy spend all of his spare time staring at women's tits and estimating cup sizes? Wait, don't answer that. "Uhm, 38, but yes."
He grinned as if he'd just scored a goal, "So close. My eyes aren't what they used to be, or maybe it's that shirt. It's a little baggy, not the most flattering cut on you." Weirdo. I picked it because it was baggy. "I can send you to a website, a few other female riders use them. It's all custom-made stuff, but great for the well-endowed women, of which you definitely are. But anyway, you said you wanted to buy a bike as well? Anything in particular?"
Frowning slightly, I crossed my arms on my chest and gave him what I thought was a mean stare. It failed to change his expression, so I probably did it wrong. I'll have to practice scowling at people. I used to do it so well. "I used to have an S-Works Stumpjumper EVO. I looked around and didn't see anything in stock, so I was hoping you could maybe special order one for me?"
Greg leaned against the counter and let out a slow whistle. "That's quite a bike, miss. It won't be cheap. I could probably find something else in stock that would work at half the price or less."
I shook my head, the blonde hair swirling once more. I should probably find a way to tie that back. Maybe a ponytail? That could be cute. "Nope. I know what I want, I've been hitting the Alpine trail over the last few weeks, and before that I was up in Washington for most of last year, blasting around Mount Hood. I hit Surveyor's Ridge at least once a week for most of the summer, before moving on to less-crowded trails. The money isn't an issue, it's the bike I want."
Greg shrugged, "I'm happy to help a girl who knows what she wants. Sure, I can drop an order in the system. There's probably a shop over in Portland that has it, or else Seattle if we have to stretch. I can't promise a specific day yet, but within a week seems achievable."
Nodding in enthusiasm, I agreed, "Sounds great, let's do it."
"What size? Color preference?"
I blanked, suddenly unsure. Shit, if I was as good a rider as I claim, I'd absolutely know what size bike I ride. An S5, obviously. But that was for the old me. I don't even know how tall I am, let alone what bike size I need.
"What are the options? I'm open to mixing things up, since I'm buying a new setup. Let's also see if I can check my fit. I was never completely satisfied with my last bike." Good job, me. Way to think on your feet. Reply without having to provide any specifics!
Arching an eyebrow, Greg walked around the counter and took me over to a set of bikes. He towered over me, easily head and shoulders taller, and I suddenly gulped, aware of how drastically my perspective on height had shifted in the last two days. Greg gestured toward a set of bikes laid out, "Let's have you give these a shot. I'm guessing you're an S2, but you could probably also ride an S3."
I walked over, stepping over the first bike's frame, and checked the fit. It fit well, and I held an arm against the wall to stabilize myself as I put my feet on the pedals, scooting my butt back on the seat. Greg walked around, probably checking out my ass, I thought as I blushed, ostensibly doing his due diligence as a good salesman to ensure the proper fit of a customer's bike. I'm glad I didn't wear the frumpy underwear, that would have been embarrassing. Not that I want guys checking me out, I quickly added. Because that would be gay and I'm not gay. But it's good my butt looks cute, just on the off-chance that anyone were to check it out.
Moving over to the second bike, I checked the fit as well. It was a little larger, I was definitely on the shorter end of eligible height range, but I could make it work. "Looking good," I heard Greg comment from behind me again as he crouched down, presumably checking the angles of my knees and length from hip to ground. Or, you know, staring at my ass again.
I got off the bike, biting my lip as I blushed, turning to face him as he stood quickly, a broad smile on his face. "So which do you think?," he asked, nodding between the two bikes.
"I think the S2," I admitted. "I could make the three work, but the two just feels a bit more nimble, almost playful. I had the three last time," Liar liar, tight leggings on fire. My giant self rode a S5. "And so I think the two is the right choice. You were saying something about color choices?"
"Sure, sure," Greg said agreeably as we walked back to the sales counter. "From the factory, you've got two choices for the S-Works frames, white and red. However, I've helped more than a few customers work out purchase agreements where the bike goes from the factory over to Black Magic Paint in Portland before it ends up here. They've got the magic credentials from Specialized to repaint and keep the warranty, so they see a lot of business.
I'd never cared about the color of my bike before, it was just a bike. Inanimate object used to pedal around and have adventures on. But now? I could pick the color of my bike? I almost squealed in delight. Almost. That would have been very improper and unprofessional. And I'm a serious professional. Honest. But I might have jumped for joy and hugged Greg's arm. Accidentally.
"Purple!" The fuck? Who said that? "Can I get it in purple?" Okay, seriously. Who else is in here? It's not funny. You aren't allowed to talk on my behalf. I realized I was still clinging to Greg's arm, my boobs pressed right into him, and awkwardly took a step back. He ducked behind the counter, adjusting his pants briefly as he did, before clearing his throat. Why was he blushing? I was the one acting like a moron.
"Yeah, uhm." He coughed again, then typed away on his computer quickly, turning the monitor so I could see. "They've got a lot of proposed color schemes, but if none of these work, they'll go all of the way up to full custom."
I pointed to one absolutely gorgeous frame on the screen, a deep metallic purple color that almost seemed to sparkle. "That's the one. What's it going to take?" He tapped away at the keyboard again.
"I can call over and see if they can do it quicker, but that probably puts us at the week mark. They've got a quick pipeline from Specialized to Black Magic, then it might take a bit to get it out here. I can see what the options are. If I had to guess, I'd say you're looking at probably $2,800 for the color. If you want it rushed, which I'm guessing you do, it might add another $500. And that's all on top of the bike cost."
This just got a lot more expensive than I had planned. I mean, it's just money, right? I can always enhance shareholder value some more if I run out. I scoffed on the inside. Fuck you, Frank. And your stupid 0.3%. I missed riding my bike and having it - or the next iteration of it - would allow me some sense of normalcy in this fucked up world I'd found myself in. Cost was no issue.
"I'm in. Let's do the S2 frameset in the custom purple metallic finish, keep the components it comes with for now, rush to Black Magic for the paint job, rush paint job, and then rush here. I haven't ridden in days and I'm really starting to miss it. And if you've got the line on the chest protector, I'm happy to order that through you, picking it up with the bike."
Greg rung up everything for me as I bounced from foot to foot, excited by the prospect of getting my replacement bike in a week. It took him a really long time to ring everything up, so I stopped bouncing and started tapping my foot. For some reason, he got faster at that point. It was probably the glare I was giving him. Finally, I paid (ouch) and grabbed my bag, thanking him profusely and giving him my phone number for when the bike was ready. I spun on my heel, turning and walking out of the store, a bounce returning to my step.
"Wow," I heard Greg mutter under his breath as I left the counter. Wow was right, my bike was going to be amazing!