Cardio Workout

Last night I discovered I'd picked up a thumbtack in my front bike tire, but that didn't scare me and set my heart racing, that was later.

It's been years since I've repaired a bike tire, and the last ones I did were the tubeless type, what we called "sew-ups." Still, I felt I could handle the task. The thing is, I needed all the parts and since I couldn't very well ride the bike (well, I could, but chose not to), I decided to take the bus and get what I needed. The one thing I didn't need, maybe, would be a pump. I'd bought one a few years back for the wheelbarrow tire, but had no idea where it was, exactly.

First thing this morning I located the pump and, even more astonishing then finding it was discovering it still worked. It has a plastic lever thing, and those quickly age and fail on me, but this one lasted (at least through today).

Since I had plans to go out for dinner and knew that would mean a few bus rides, I got a day pass this morning for my trip to the bike shop. What I thought I'd do, for the first time ever, was to transport my bike on the rack on the front of the bus.

For everyone who isn't me, this is no big deal, but I'd never used it before. I've seen them, and have seen people use them when I was sitting inside, but I've also heard bus drivers yell at people and get all annoyed when they don't work it right. This frightens me. I don't want to look like a doofus.

Fortunately, the other day I was able to find a stationary bus and very quickly determined how the uncomplicated apparatus functions. Armed with that knowledge I felt confident that I could mount my bike on the front of the bus and to do so without holding everyone up.

I had my bike by the bus stop. The bus approached, and I got it on with only a minor setback because of the kickstand, but my heart was racing! Getting it off when I arrived at my destination was child's play, and I got the needed parts (including a spare inner tube in case I botched the repair job).

Naturally, the same bus driver took me back. What he thought, if it was anything at all, about me taking my bike up and down a three mile stretch of road is unknown. I muttered something about a "wasted trip" when I left, but that was mostly to salve my own insecurities.

I got the inner tube out, patched, and put it back in before remembering to remove the thumb tack. It didn't re-puncture the tube, which surprises me.

This is the type of thing that serves as drama in my life.