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Saturday, June 11, 2011

First Flat (And No Spare)

Yup, that was me yesterday afternoon. Fourteen miles from home, four miles from the nearest small town, and a Hubby standing next to me with a very apologetic look on his face as he was the one who said, "Oh, it'll be alright to ride on the gravel road" after I had already said, "Gravel roads aren't good for my bike." A quarter mile into the road, a phhishhhht came from the rear tire. I didn't even have to say, "See? I told you so" before the apologies started. It was supposed to have been a short ride, just down the new bike path running along Route 66, to where it ends, then back home. Hubby, though, suggested we continue on to where I had gone the other day. Always up for more mileage, I agreed.

We took a different route, sort of a back way into the area of the nature preserve, Unfortunately, the road taking us closer to the preserve turned into gravel. I knew better. I did. But since Hubby hasn't ridden with me for some time, and since it was he instead of me wanting to push on, I went ahead and submitted my beautiful bike to what only could have been pure torture to it. Beautiful bike showed me! Out in the middle of absolutely nowhere, which was actually quite gorgeous with the corn beginning to gain ground on one side and a very pretty tree-lined stream on the other side, beautiful bike said enough of this madness. As I stood on the bridge spanning the tree-lined stream, I saw a path leading down to a sandbar jutting out into the water. I wanted to stay there and wait for Hubby as he raced home to get the truck and return to fetch me. Hubby, though, was having none of that. He was certain a psycho would see me, lure me into his windowless van, and do unmentionable things to me. Yeah. Right. He watches way to much crime TV. So instead of hanging out on a sandbar, my feet immersed in the cool waters of the stream, I began walking back towards the small town 4 miles away, while Hubby pedaled his tush off to get home. Four miles on asphalt roads in clip shoes really isn't a good idea. At least for the clips. Now, not only do I need a new tire and tube, but I also need new clips for my shoes.

I reached the small town about an hour later, where a very kind man offered to fix my tire for me, saying he had all the tire-patching materials needed in his garage. I thanked him, telling him the tube and tire both had gashes in them, and my Hubby was on his way, should be there any minute. And almost as soon as I crossed Route 66 to pick up the bike path, I saw Hubby coming. With relief, I slipped off my shoes and socks then slid onto the seat while Hubby loaded my bike. I sank back into the seat, enjoying the air conditioning all the way home, and thinking this was a hard lesson learned.

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