repair

Three sprockets lined up on a tile background. From left to right the sizes are: 19-teeth; 17-teeth; and 14-teeth.

A close-up of the assembled rear sprocket, chain, gearshift mechanism and rear stays of a three-speed bicycle. The sprocket in this view has 21 teeth.

In March this year (2024), I’ll be making a journey to visit friends further to the west, beyond bicycle distance. They are cyclists, so I’ll be keen to take along a bike for local use, and that poses a thread-the-needle problem for my current stable of four steeds. The Dahon K3 is a tiny folding bike that can be taken on the train with no problem, but it’s not meant to carry loads, and it’s not geared for hills.

A kitchen faucet, with a replacement cartridge, still in its wrapping, standing next to it in the basin’s soap tray.

The parts of a dismantled cartridge faucent lying in a stainless steel kitchen sink: the handle to control the faucet; the screw-on cover that holds the cartridge in place; the cartridge; and a pair of needle-nose pliers. The first two items are smeared in places with black goo.

A Moka induction coffee maker, dismantled into its three components: the stovetop boiler, the coffee basket, and the coffee pot receptacle that screws on top. The coffee pot is resting on its side with the bottom facing the camera, to show the new seal that has been installed. The box for a new set of seals sits beside the dismantled pot.

A fully assembled induction coffee maker, with the Bialetti logo of a mustached cartoon figure with one arm raised high with a pointed finger as if making an emphatic statement. A box of replacement seals sits in front of the assembled coffee maker.

Today I followed through on a fix that I’ve thought about every single time I’ve used the day pack I’ve been carrying around for at least the last twenty years. Whether empty or full, the bag is a repository of memories, as I realize in setting down to write around the photos below. So we’ll start with memories, and go on from there. I have a rough idea of the backpack’s age because I remember buying it at the “Big 1” (ビッグワン) discount store on the road between Hirabari station and the University family residence that was our first home here in Nagoya.

The parts of a dismantled cartridge faucent lying in a stainless steel kitchen sink: the handle to control the faucet; the screw-on cover that holds the cartridge in place; the cartridge; and a pair of needle-nose pliers. The first two items are smeared in places with black goo.

A kitchen faucet, with a replacement cartridge, still in its wrapping, standing next to it in the basin’s soap tray.