Wet, flat, and dirty
Yesterday was a day full of important work in the form of 12 hours of meetings. Meetings are usually my no. 1 nemesis, however these meetings of the minds were necessery in order to improve our website.
Scene: Twelve hours of actual hard work, and a 40% chance of thunderstorms turning into a 140% chance of steady drizzle. Followed by a flat tire a mile into my commute home. Neat. Get the gear out, insert new tube, place old tube in backpack, leave pump at site of flat, continue on.
Scene: By the water reclaimation plant. Phsssss, phsssss, phsssss - the sound of a tire slowly losing air with each revolution. Where have I heard that sound recently? Drizzle still steadily moistening my already saturated clothing, I pull over to get off of my rim as soon as possible. After removing the front tire for the second time (the implement which rendered me flat in the first place remained in the road and not in my tire), I break out a tube which is...too big.
I have three bikes - two mountain bikes, which run 26 inch tires and a road bike which runs what is called 700c, or roughly 28 inches.
As I am figuring this out, some dude comes cruising by and asks, "Need a tube?" Bummer, he's on a road bike, but he has a pump, which really doesn't help as my dire situation could not be more out of air, so to speak. Dude's name is Eric, and I've seen him before as the flame tattoos on his arms are unique - something we have in common (mine are not flames, but iron crosses and tre kronors). He knew me too, as I had been in the bike shop at which he works, which also happens to be around the corner from where I work, and not far from where I had broken down. They close at 6:00, and it was 6:20.
During all this, I had called a couple of my friends, one of which was not around to answer, the other lives very close to me, but seeing as how I was 14 miles from home, this would be a pain. Suffice it to say I have awesome friends and traded a ride for half a bag of Scott's Plus 2 Weed Killer and Fertilizer. During the whole ordeal I had called Dave three times, twice to say, "No, I've got what I need, nevermind."
This morning's ride started off well - everything inflated, new red De Marchi shorts on, and dry roads. North of Dublin Boulevard, that is. I live two blocks north of Dublin, and my first mile and a half is down Dublin, heading west (thank God for the mountains). Turning south I soon realized that I'd be the color of mud and smell the same by the time I reached work as all the roads were just wet enough for my tires to soak up the moisture and flick it directly up through my un-fendered forks at my chin. Whee. Good thing I plan ahead (aside form forgetting my secondary pump) with all hygeinical needs stored here at work.
Anyhoo, long story short (too late), we cannot have it both ways. I like the rain and have accepted that riding in the rain is not a problem, it is fun! A little more care, close attention to what is happening around oneself and the admission that wetness is inevitable, and the ride is a blast!
Scene: Twelve hours of actual hard work, and a 40% chance of thunderstorms turning into a 140% chance of steady drizzle. Followed by a flat tire a mile into my commute home. Neat. Get the gear out, insert new tube, place old tube in backpack, leave pump at site of flat, continue on.
Scene: By the water reclaimation plant. Phsssss, phsssss, phsssss - the sound of a tire slowly losing air with each revolution. Where have I heard that sound recently? Drizzle still steadily moistening my already saturated clothing, I pull over to get off of my rim as soon as possible. After removing the front tire for the second time (the implement which rendered me flat in the first place remained in the road and not in my tire), I break out a tube which is...too big.
I have three bikes - two mountain bikes, which run 26 inch tires and a road bike which runs what is called 700c, or roughly 28 inches.
As I am figuring this out, some dude comes cruising by and asks, "Need a tube?" Bummer, he's on a road bike, but he has a pump, which really doesn't help as my dire situation could not be more out of air, so to speak. Dude's name is Eric, and I've seen him before as the flame tattoos on his arms are unique - something we have in common (mine are not flames, but iron crosses and tre kronors). He knew me too, as I had been in the bike shop at which he works, which also happens to be around the corner from where I work, and not far from where I had broken down. They close at 6:00, and it was 6:20.
During all this, I had called a couple of my friends, one of which was not around to answer, the other lives very close to me, but seeing as how I was 14 miles from home, this would be a pain. Suffice it to say I have awesome friends and traded a ride for half a bag of Scott's Plus 2 Weed Killer and Fertilizer. During the whole ordeal I had called Dave three times, twice to say, "No, I've got what I need, nevermind."
This morning's ride started off well - everything inflated, new red De Marchi shorts on, and dry roads. North of Dublin Boulevard, that is. I live two blocks north of Dublin, and my first mile and a half is down Dublin, heading west (thank God for the mountains). Turning south I soon realized that I'd be the color of mud and smell the same by the time I reached work as all the roads were just wet enough for my tires to soak up the moisture and flick it directly up through my un-fendered forks at my chin. Whee. Good thing I plan ahead (aside form forgetting my secondary pump) with all hygeinical needs stored here at work.
Anyhoo, long story short (too late), we cannot have it both ways. I like the rain and have accepted that riding in the rain is not a problem, it is fun! A little more care, close attention to what is happening around oneself and the admission that wetness is inevitable, and the ride is a blast!
posted by Road Warrior @ 7:37:00 AM
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