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.
3 comments:
ARGH! I felt a sympathy panic attack coming on while reading this!
A month ago, my old pump had effectively rendered all my tires flat, I had run out of CO2 cartridges, and I had a critical workout to do. I called the closest bike shop 5 minutes before they closed to beg them to PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE keep the door open so I could buy a new pump. (This has been a great reminder to buy a new valve for my old pump.)
Oh, and RIP SOME LEGS OFF THIS WEEKEND!!!! ;)
hey Jen!
when do you race tonight at Marymoor Park? I want to come out and watch.
jo
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