This Christmas the elder Pseudomite is getting a bike from Santa. The bike is nothing flash, just yer typical first bike: No gears, training wheels, pedal backwards to brake, handlebar ribbons and doll carrier. Oh, and "some assembly required".
According to the box, Assembly Is Easy! All you need is a screwdriver, a shifting spanner, and the Included Magical Allen Key!
Bulldust. Pure unadulterated bulldust.
There was not one but two Included Magical Allen Keys - and each had a Funky Screwdriver Head on the reverse end! What a shame it was that only one thing on the whole flippin' bike required an allen key (the handlebar adjustment) - the rest of the bike required an assortment of spanners, phillips and flathead screwdrivers: not one hexagonal shaped hole anywhere else. Oh well, the Magical Allen Keys can be added to the collection. Every time the missus goes to IKEA in one of her moods she returns with a flat-pack box containing a Magical Allen Key, among other things, so the new additions will be far from lonely in the tool cupboard.
The instructions were straightforward enough, and obviously written by a native English speaker; no mystical engrish (sic) expressions like "Inserting seat into proper hole and bolt tightens". Indeed, most components went together easily enough, but then most of the locations were straightforward: The wheel quite clearly connected to the front forks, the pedals to the holes in the middle of the big cog thingy, and so forth.
Nevertheless clearly written instructions are of no help at all when trying to perform a simple task like tighten the brakes. The instructions glibly tell you to loosen a nut, pull a cable, tighten the nut and twiddle an adjustment nut. Nothing could be easier, right? WRONG. The instructions neatly avoid mentioning that the task is possible only if you have a second set of hands, for one cannot turn a nut, pull a cable AND hold the brakes in the desired position with the usual human consignment of two hands. Clearly this bike is intended for Hindu deities and not mere mortals. And does the all-knowing instruction manual tell you how to deal with a set of brakes which does not return to its proper position once the brake handle is released?
The best bit is the doll carrier. Designed to perch on the frame directly behind the seat, this festive piece of plastic allows the rider to take the doll of her choice on endless circuits of the back yard. Provided of course that the doll is lame, because this particular doll carrier got squashed in the box and is now shaped in such a fashion that poor dolly will have to sit with her head wrenched one way and her legs the other. The bottom of this bolts onto the bike frame easily enough. The back is supposed to be attached to the rear wheel axle via a bent metal rod with loops in the ends. Which is well and good, except there is no physical way that the rod can bolt onto the carrier with the supplied bracket. It simply Does Not Fit. The manual, with perfect clarity and syntax, simply tells one to "now attach all extra attachments (doll carrier, stand, etc)". After a wasted hour trying every conceivable way to attach this rod to the carrier (using longer bolts for the bracket, trying to mount the rod on the other side of the frame, etc) I discovered a separate piece of paper with instructions to attach the carrier to the bike. This sheet has crystal clear instructions, replete with pictures - which would be great, if the instructions weren't clearly for a different bloody bike - they're even dated May 2005! So as I type this the doll carrier sits forlornly coupled to the bicycle with CABLE TIES - until such time as I can get to Bunnings and buy a proper bloody bracket to mount the thing with.
At this moment it is now in the first hour of Christmas Day. I'm off to cram as much shut-eye into my tired body as I can, before I am cruelly woken by the incessant ringing of bicycle bells when the yardapes arise at the crack of dawn and march into the lounge room to discover their loot. Merry Christmas to all. Humbug.