Everything But Planes, Trains &.....

You know those days where, at some point, you say to yourself “I should have stayed in bed”? Monday, May 2nd was one of those days for me.

I don’t want to say the day started out on a ‘good’ note per se, as it was news that Osama Bin Laden was dead. Even with fuzzy morning head I pictured President Obama on some evening talk show making a Bette Davis-esque remark when asked about it. “My mother always told me to say good things about the dead. Osama Bin Laden is dead. Good.” Cue the applause.

I agree the world is better off without him, but isn’t dancing in the streets about it a bit like poking a sleeping, unleashed pit bull with a sharp stick? Time will tell. It did make me feel safer that I continue to cycle to work. I suppose I could be the target of a terrorist attack, but I don’t think I’m that important.

Even though it was raining today, sporting my new yellow rain slicker I hopped on Molly and headed east. I have had flat tires before, but more often than not, I can either walk home or to MEC for a repair. Today however, I found myself about halfway to work when there was a loud pop and then about 2 seconds of ‘pshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh’.

Did I keep going or turn back? I started to walk towards the city but then started counting the markers I still had to pass. Three parking lots, the Argonaut rowing club, Ontario place, the TipTop building. There were just as many between me and home so I took refuge in one of the picnic shelters along the lake.

‘It can always be worse’ is a game I play when something attempts to throw me off kilter. I could have been hit by a car. I was once. On my bike. Actually, I was knocked down and run over by a cement truck, poked the peddle right through my calf muscle. Tore it in two even.

Or, it could be tomorrow, the day I am chairing a big meeting at work. Or maybe Toronto was overtaken by a Walking Dead type virus and this was a sign to stay away.

Flipping open my laptop I was pleased to see the “wireless signal detected” message flash across the bottom of the screen. There could be worse things than working in the great outdoors, albeit covered, for the day. Alas, you needed a pass code to gain access and I didn’t have my VPN token handy.

Walking home was not on the top of my ‘oh what fun’ list, at least not pushing Molly and her two panniers of cargo. Bravely or foolishly, I locked her to a picnic table and headed back over the Humber River bridge. I figured a short walk to the streetcar wouldn’t be too bad.

There I stood; bright yellow jacket, black tights with grey shorts over top, bike shoes and a lovely quaff. The looks I got rather surprised me, given the spitting, cursing, “I need to get laid” fellow I had encountered only a few weeks ago. I was warm and someplace dry and that was enough for me.

Once home, I put down Liza’s back seat, backed out of the garage and headed the direction from which I had just come praying none too silently that my bike would still be there. It was raining, windy and cold. Surely there would not be any sneaky bike thieves about. As it turns out, there weren’t.

In my haste, the only thing I changed was my footwear. Much to the amusement of a couple walking their dog, I had added a pair of jumbo, camouflaged rubber boots that I use for hunting. Warm, easy to get on and they were close at hand.

Showered, looking and feeling better, I settled down to work. Apres my toil, I went to gears bike shop for a tire repair. No problem. No line. $9 for labour, $6 for the tube. Sold.

It was then suggested that I also replace the rim tape. Not knowing what that was but that it cost $5, I said sure. I then purchased a small plastic tool for $3.95 that one needs to replace a tube. Inspired by Kitkat’s recent blog post and the fact that IronMan is working this weekend, I am going to figure this out so next time I can fend for myself. One needs to be able to make a hasty retreat from approaching zombies after all.

Then the other shoe fell. The tire itself also needed to be replaced and that one hurt. $88. BAM. Driving home, I continued to play the game in an effort to find the silver lining. Walking into the kitchen I say the last piece of Bumble Crumble from the Big Apple and knew I had found it.