Raising the White Flag

The plan was simple: Alan and I would ride out Middle Road, follow Bairdford to the Red Belt, and return via Logan and Saxonburg Boulevard. All was well until the return on Saxonburg, where I flatted. No big deal, right? I swapped out the tube, and in the process of inflating it, the pump ate the core from the tube valve. Swell. Alan had a spare tube, which apparently I pinched installed. Swell. I patched this (not once, but twice, because I am so inept that even glueless patches apparently require voodoo). Off we go. About 200 meters later, my rear wheel was snaking around behind me. Stop. Rinse, lather, repeat. I examine the tube. Fill it outside of the tire. No air coming out. *Shrug* Let’s keep going. 200 meters later–rinse, lather, repeat. Out comes the cell phone, as we are out of tubes. I meekly take a ride home. Nothing stinks more than sitting by the side of the road, saying “no, I’m okay, thanks” as people ride by.