Normally I shoot for a specific tone when righting on here. Jaunty, witty, a shade immature, and definitely with psychedelic overtones.
This will not be one of those.
This will probably be the last non-rainy day of the year. Unfortunately, scheduling conflicts meant I would not get in a ride with my riding partner (who still has yet to accept the invite to write on here, by the way...) but I decided to ride anyway.
I blocked out 4 hours for the ride; figured to start by 8 am and finish about noon with a target of 50+ miles.
I stopped and got a cinnabon yesterday, ate my butter-drenched power breakfast and was ready to go. Pumped up my ties, dressed in layers and was putting on my stocking cap when I heard it.
Yep, that old bugaboo returned. The smurfing tire developed a leak. And of course it is not the easy-off, easy on front tire. Oh, no. That would be too easy. It is the miserable, all but impossible to take off and put on back tire.
So yet again I will be dealing with that instead of riding.
You know, there are parts of cycling I truly love. I enjoy the feel of the wind on my face. I love the improvement. I love the companionship of riding with Fluffy the Cat and, next year, perhaps my brothers. I like the physical exercise. The vistas.
But the maintenance issues are so miserable I sometimes wonder if it is all worth it.