Strike Three

Woke up a bit early this morning and was rather surprised not to hear it raining outside. After searching for the TV remote, which had fallen underneath the bed, I finally checked the weather radar. No doubt I'd be getting wet, but it wasn't cold and the heavy stuff wasn't likely to get here for a few hours so I put on an extra jersey and light shoe covers to keep my shoes from getting too dirty and headed out. As has been the case almost every morning lately, there was enough fog near the river to make me want to keep my flashing headlight on for most of the ride. Since I was early, I rode through the Carrollton neighborhood and got up on the levee bike path around the Corps of Engineers operation. Just before I got there I saw a rider go by, so naturally I had to chase. It was a woman in an unfamiliar jersey, and I was figuring it was probably Beth M. from D.C. who had e-mailed me recently about where to ride while she was in town for a Physical Therapy conference. She looked over at me and said she had been in touch with somebody named Randy and did I know him? Small world -- especially at 6:30 a.m. Anyway, we were still a few minutes early, so we rode out to the Jefferson Playground, and turned around there, riding back to meet the group at the "pump hill." I was surprised how many guys were there this morning because we were definitely going to get wet.

Beth turned back just past the Country Club when the raindrops started falling, but most of the group continued on in a light off-and-on drizzle, riding just a bit faster than usual for a Wednesday ride. On the way back I could feel my rear tire going soft and finally had to stop and fix it while everyone waited.

Strike One.

I checked the casing and pulled a couple of pieces of rock out, and ran my finger along the inside pulling out another piece of glass or rock before sticking in one of my two spare tubes. If you train on worn-out tires like I do, you quickly learn to always carry two spares! Well, I only made it a mile or two before that one went soft, so I told the rest to go ahead, not wanting them to have to wait around in the drizzle again and get cold. Richard H. stuck around with me while I changed flat No. 2, and Joe F. turned around at the Playground and rode back with us too.

Strike 2.

Now I was wishing I hadn't left my cellphone at home, because I was now out of tubes and might want to make a call to request emergency extraction. Two flats in a row like that could mean only one thing. There was still something stuck in the tire, and I probably wasn't going to find it in the rain without a magnifying glass or somebody with much younger eyes!

So it was now the bottom of the ninth with two outs and two strikes, and a tube with four patches on it was at bat.

I almost made it home! When I made the turn off of Oak St. onto Carrollton, I could feel my rear tire squirm around a bit like they do when they are almost flat, but seeing as how I was now out of spare tires and the patch kit wasn't going to be very useful with everything soaking wet, I switched over to a smoother street, stood up to take the weight off of the rear wheel, and hoped for the best.

Strike Three.

Didn't make it very far before it bottomed out, but I kept riding, basically on the rim, with the wet tire and tube squirming around underneath me. It was kind of like riding the gravel sections of the Rouge-Roubaix course. By the time I got to Neron Place, the tire bead had come out of the rim and so the tire was catching on the brake, so I was reduced to walking the last four or five blocks home. Happily, it wasn't cold enough to make it too uncomfortable, though.

On the plus side, we have a staff meeting today which means .... Free Lunch!! Whoo Hooo! I went for broke and ordered a Muffaletta!

Looks like I'll be patching tubes tonight.