The LORD abhors dishonest scales, but accurate weights are his delight.
This is one of the old cleats from my clipless shoes. This picture doesn’t really show it, but the part that clips into the pedal had worn so thin it actually has an edge. Also the lighting obscures the incredible rust ring visible in the empty hole. I wore these all winter. Notice the two shiny cut marks. These came from a tiny hand-held table saw that the bike mechanic used to slice through one of the bolts holding the cleat onto my shoe. It had become so thoroughly part of the shoe that nothing less than sawing through it with two deep, perpendicular slices would loosen it up. Russ, the mechanic, seemed more than happy to pull the little saw out and spray sparks all over the place; replacing my cleat really seemed almost secondary. And yes, Mom, he did wear eye protection.
I almost slipped when I started walking around with the new cleats on. My old ones had worn down to such tiny nubs they didn’t stick out or interfere with my walking at all. Then again, they also just barely held my foot on the pedal. Everyone at the bike shop seemed to think getting about 7,000 miles out of a pair of cleats was pretty good, so I guess my $40 was well spent on the replacements. Of course, I nearly got them for free — I rode off without paying for them, and had to call the shop when I got home. Fortunately the folks at Landry’s know they’ll see me again, so they don’t stress about little things like payment. Not too much, anyway.