This morning I woke up to the sound of several loudly whispered expletives and Ryan using a floor pump on his tires, then the gushing noise of air traveling too quickly more expletives and repeat. "You've got to be f*(&&**(ing kidding me!" This happened 4 times.
Even Makiah nestled in next to me - sensing something was amiss. I mustered up energy to get out of bed and see if I could help a code red frustrated man in skinny spandex solve the pump fiasco. Strewn across the living room were 4 tubes, broken off valves, two pumps (neither of which work properly, btw) and an Irish man as red in the face as the leprechaun wig he wears on St. Paddy's day. His hands were shaking - all patience long gone - and he was late for work.
"Should have just run my tires at 80 psi - at least I'd be half way there by now!"
A slow, steady hand, team effort to make a pump work and off he went chasing his pot of gold, pedaling his heart out to make it on work time for his Friday meeting.