March 10, 2008
-
Monday, March 10
This morning was one of THOSE mornings. You know the ones. THEM. It started out OK. I rode out Corbett and then I got a flat tire at Corbett and Portola. I changed it, scaring the bejeezus out of an old lady who didn’t see me sitting on the curb behind a car until she was walking past me, and then I got back on my bike. I rode Portola to Fowler to Teresita to Gaviota to Bella Vista to Burlwood to Los Palmos to Hazelwood to Yerba Buela to Brentwood. This is the view of the ocean from Brentwood St. Beautiful:
I continued on Brentwood to Maywood to Yerba Buena to Santa Clara into Vicente and down to the ocean. I came up the Great Highway.
And that’s where things started going wrong. I got another flat. I didn’t have another good tube, so I had to patch it. And I put it back on and it went flat again. And so it began a solid hour of me gluing, patching, inflating and praying, taking turns between two tubes trying to get a patch to hold. I went through my tire meticulously to get all the glass out. It took forever. I have very good luck patching tires at home or the office and very bad luck doing it on the road. I’m guessing it’s a patience issue. Both of the tubes I was trying to fix had multiple punctures. Which complicated things.
There was this little kid in a batman costume having a kicking, screaming, crying tantrum over something. I totally know how he felt. But at least I was in a good neighborhood and it was a sunny day. And I looked good. And I finally got one to hold and made it into work. Here’s me before I got back on the bike:
I rode up MLK to the Music Concourse and then JFK to the panhandle and then Baker to McAllister to Scott to Golden Gate to Market to Sansome and into work. Finally. When I got back to the office I patched all my flats. It was easy and they held. Of course. Look at all the patches on these tires. It’s Dickensian:
Oh well, it still beats Muni.
