Boiling temperatures, Hole-y tires

Did you notice that I haven’t made a single post all weekend?? Oh, that’s because I was too busy walking a mile with a 26″ Schwinn Mountain bike with hydroformed tubes on my back…oh yeah, and it had a flat back tire. Let me tell you all about it…

Somehow in the midst of the 96 degree weather on Saturday the heat began to make me so delusional to the point that I thought that it would be a good idea to take a 13 mile bike ride across three cities for fun. If you disregard the fact that I was chased by a 200lb cougar-esque dog the size of “Big Brown,” the ride was fun and it kinda made me feel like Marco Polo, the explorer.

Key facts:
Temperature: 97 degrees fahrenheit
My mood: Groggy but determined
Bike condition: Not sure, because I didn’t check
Safety equipment: None, because I left them all home in favor of a lighter bike weight
Communication Equipment: None, because I didn’t want to lose my cell phone

Since Saturday’s ride went so well, I attempted to relive the experience on Sunday; however I got a flat tire 1.5 miles into the journey. When I tried to ride the broken bike back home, the flat tire slipped off of the rim and prevented the wheel from spinning. I picked the bike up, threw it on my shoulder and walked half a mile to my job’s building in hopes of finding a co-worker who could give me a ride home, but it was 96 degrees outside on a Sunday afternoon–who in their right mind would leave their cool, air-conditioned home to wander about aimlessly in search of cheap thrills and adventures??? Oh wait… me.

I chained the bike to the mailbox and I began my 2 mile journey home. At first I began to jog, but then the 100+ degree sidewalk began to create heat via friction inside my pumas and made my feet feel like I was infected with tinea pedis disease. Instead, I began walking. As the sun increased its intensity and seemingly focused its heat rays on my back, I began to feel like the ants that I used to toast with a magnifying glass during my boring summer days as a child. The sweat that was forming on my head began to run into my eyes, my shirt was drenched, and my legs started to hurt. My plan was to spend the duration of the 2 mile trek to safety thinking about positive aspects of my experience, but the only positive thing that I could come up with was that my spit didn’t start to boil in my mouth yet.

When I got home my mom looked at me with a puzzled look on my face and asked “where’s the bike?” As I tried to recover from the intense walk and was re-learning how to utilize my charred voice box, I conjured up all of my strength to mutter: “tire…hole…chain….walk,” then I took my dad’s truck to retrieve the broken bike.

From now on when I get the crazy idea to take a 13 mile bike ride in the blistering hot weather without any safety or communication equipment, I’ll just set myself on fire instead…it’ll take less time and should hurt less.

  1. June 11, 2008 - Reply

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