Don't worry about it.
My bike took a proverbial dump on my chest yesterday, almost sending me into apoplexy. It was almost the worst day of my life. Or possibly almost the worst day within a period of 3 or 4 days.
I pedaled my little heart out going up the hill from Provo to Orem. I've been in a rather Olympic mood of late. So I charged it. Upon sweatily reaching the crest of the hill, my bike would no longer shift into higher gears (meaning it was ridiculously easy to pedal.) I traveled to the nearest bike shop, where my friend Chad happened to be working. I told him what happened. He looked at my bike and said, "Sweet bike. Hey. Donny Osmond."
There he was, the iconic Mormon legend himself. He was so beautiful.
So turns out the sorta cracked out drunk who sold me my bike had installed an incorrect dérailleur and so something got stripped that shouldn't have been stripped. So worst case scenario, I was looking at having to convert it to a single speed or fixed gear, on top of basking in the holy light of Donny Osmond for about 20 minutes. Best case scenario, a new dérailleur might work, and again, soaking in the effervescent glory of Donny Osmond. So a win/win situation really.
In the end, Chad installed a new dérailleur for me, thus saving me from the cruel fate of a single speed commuter bike. Aaaaannd I got to observe his Mormon majesty, Mr. Donald Clark Osmond, out amongst the common riffraff, pretending to be a real person.
Why doesn't he have an i phone?