Encore Last Post of the Old Era and More



Rim Strip Better Than Velox

I really did not plan to do this. What, you might wonder, is "this?" Well I would LIKE to talk about the direction I'm going to take this discussion, and how I've noticed that the vast majority of the 722 posts I made before today have a lot of cycling educational content and how I'm going to be looking for volunteer help to pull this all together into a step-by-step way to transform people from being "people on bikes" to the higher condition of "cyclist."

But all that will have to wait a little bit. You see, unlike my usual routine of fun and safe riding to work, this morning was, well, not any of those things. It was, however, memorable. As I told my wife when I called - "I don't think I got hurt." I didn't know at that point how much further things would go.

Everything started pretty normally. After a mile, I turned on to the half mile of bike path that is on my commute. It is poorly designed, but I still view it as a pleasant interlude, because it is more pastoral than the rest of my route. This morning, on that bike path, suddenly I was flung 15 or so feet off to the left of the trail and my elbows were on the handlebars as I tracked through the grass. For a brief moment, I thought I might go over the bars. Luck and good bike handling skills got things back under control and back on the path. With TWO flat tires. Even a cyclocross bike handles poorly with both tires flat. Looking back, I saw no obvious cause for the incident. I hoofed it home. I had a spare tube but that wasn't going to get me back on track with what were most likely pinch flats - on tires that had over 100psi in them beforehand. Sure enough, I saw a large brown rock in the path that my mind had probably registered as a leaf. Lesson learned the hard way. Actually, it was a lesson learned once again since I'd fallen on that same trail during the 25 feet of it I ride on the way home. On Valentine's Day.

February 14, About Five Minutes Before My LAST Bad Path Encouter

Well, I made it back home and didn't even notice my wonderful wife's futile attempts to find out if I was in shock or whatever. Maybe a little bit of shock. After all, it isn't every day that you simultaneously almost get thrown off your bike and get two flat tires.

Upon my return, I diligently set about reducing any familial sympathy by grumping at anybody around. I also replaced the offending tubes. In my hurry, I pinched one of the tubes, raising my flat total to three. Two front flats and one rear.

One nice aspect of all this was it was fully light by the time I set out again. What's more, I swooped by that brown "rock that looked like a leaf" with fierce abandon. I even started go get a little cocky and snapped a photo of the scene where "green Escort boy" felt it necessary to yell at me as I waited for a stoplight.

What, Exactly, Does "Teal Escort Guy" Expect Me to do at This Intersection?

Well, it wasn't over yet. While I waited at the light, I heard a sickening "bang" and my rear tire lost its air. Apparently, that tube had gotten pinched just enough to get me about three miles before giving up the ghost. Score at this point was two front flats and two rear flats.

At this point, I was out of spare tubes and out of time to get to work. While I don't often give up, four flats in one morning got me to call my wonderful wife for a ride. I admit it. I'm weak.

Fourth Flat. I Give UP!