So!  I left work early ’cause it got really quiet (and I have some use or lose time), to attempt to mark some of Sunday’s ride to the Depot.  Just one more time when trying to do “too much” (a rather low threshold for me — your average mom juggles more on a slow day) means messing things up. I’d downloaded the ride to teh GPS … and then when I decided to leave early, I dashed out, on the grounds that the more time on the road, the more I could mark, the more it would help.  As Doc McNelis said about math mistakes… R. O. N. G.

Oh, tha tmark to go up 525 is valid, as is the one into the Lake of the Woods park.  THereafter, though, the stupid GPS “navigation” decided I suppose to just take me to WHiteheath as fast as it could.  So to my surprise — but I don’t trust my memory — it directed me back through Mahomet.  When it sent me down 47 I really wondered… when it sent me West on Route 10 I knew something was screwed up and went a mile further and home on Kirby, and had a good time chasing the rabbit that went by when I stopped to turn my lights on.

Oh, and those hard case tires aren’t impermeable and the delamination thing is gettin gold — tho’ I just don’t know how old these tires are.  The first “POP!”  made me wonder if some clever soul had strewn those little pop-caps on the path… at the fourth I wondered if there were some weird plant growth, but stopped to look and see that my rear tire was just full of bubbles — except for the little holes where they’d exploded. Little while later I realized the tire was completely flat (just after a rider went by me who I couldn’t see in the glare of the setting sun, but a second or two after hearing “Hi, beautiful” I recognized Bill Gibbesn’ voice ;)) and I figured the tire had failed… but not totally. There was a wire that had pierced it like a hypodermic needle.

I guess I did earn my bozo button, since I had a tire lever, a new tube (but not the patch kit that’s probably on my desk at work) and (BONUS!!)  the Road MOrph  set to Presta.  (I thought I’d lost mine and got another, so now I have one Schraeder, one Presta — but to have the right one at the right time is good karma, indeed.)  I applied the Peter Davis Theory and DID NOT put any air in that bad boy before mounting and successfully, single-two-handedly, got that tire on the rim.

I suppose that had I not left early, I”d have taken that delay to tell me I should go ome then, but I’m sure I would have made at least one more mark — the WRONG one. Flog self with holy tire…

THinking about what to do with money.

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