Bitch Box

Fall, and something stuck in my tire...
Originally uploaded by Jerry Aaron Hazard.

Monday. First day at new the masters place, er, make that job...

Orientation, HR info, benefits, security, ID photos, tours, breaks, lunch...

For lunch, we get an hour during our first three weeks of training.
The coffee at work is a very poor nature, worse than that 'Saneese' crap that priceline had. Yeah, difficult to envision, but true. So, I took the fixie out for a quick spin around the area in search of a better bean.

The new workplace is located in near the edge of a new industrial complex. Lots of call centers around there, and many shipping companies. This means many semis, and freight trains. One day last week I caught some keen pieces on a boxcar, but no luck today, the tracks were empty. Ultimately, I wound up on a busy two lane, with little or no shoulder to get crowded into, so I had to ride the dirt trail on the side of the road. Keen with my skinny 700x23c road tires. I did my best to dodge all the glass and other road debris, and finally found a bp or something that had some halfway decent gas station java. Not 'Cup O' Joe' (columbus Ohio reference :)) but better than that swill in the breakroom. Add to that a pack of smokes, and I'm on my way back to work.

My ride was speedier than planned, so I pulled off next to a sporting goods store, so I could loiter in their landscape while enjoying my petrol station java, and smooth camel. My eyes graze across my bike, (as they usually do if I'm in the same room or locale it's a long love story, but I won't delve too deep) and I notice that my beauty has been pocked by a plague of goatheads. Too see goatheads in action, check my scraps :)

This is just a little unnerving, as the ride home is 7 mile undulating but uphill jaunt. I'm not even sure if I have a patch kit, and even if I do, there's a good chance it's older than the bluepack stashed in the secret compartment in my wallet.

I let the java calm me a bit, drag on the camel, and back off to work. Hopefully, the goatheads will be civil and not let the air escape from the wheels over the next 4 hours.
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5pm. Got my photo ID, and of course I look like an ex or current con, but that's the nature of work photo id's I suppose. As I approach my bike, I notice that the front wheel is now devoid of air. I find the goathead, swear a few times under my breath, and a couple more over my breath, and remove it, and pitch it in to the flowerbed close by. The rear wheel is still full, air, goathead and all. A quick glance to the horizon and I notice a not so keen weather front is moving in rather rapidly. The kind where the sky is this super dark, cool grey, and you cannot tell exactly where the land ends, and the sky begins. Great.

I walk the bike over underneath a tree, into the grass so I can be somewhat comfortable and out of the way while I attempt a repair. A long line of cars parades past me, all my new coworkers rushing to the gridlock...

Nobody asks if I need a ride, help, or for my phone number.

I have two patches and some glue in my messenger back, but no wrench to remove my front wheel, and no tire levers. I manage to get the wheel off with the handle of my mini air pump, and do my best to apply a 2 1/2 inch patch to a tube that is only 1 3/8 inches wide. It gets pretty messy. Messier than one would imagine a little piece of rubber and some cement are capable. Get the tire back on, pump it up - cool, it's holding air, at least a little bit. The clouds are now overhead, and the air is cooling. I gotta go...

I am lucky that my ride home is mostly on a multi use path, so I don't have to deal with much traffic, or road obstacles. About a mile into the journey, the rain starts. It's not falling hard, but it's blowing like 30mph and at an angle. It stings my eyes, and I reflexively swear at it, and challenge it to do it's worse... I think a finger was involved in the expression as well. Well, the wind stayed constant, but the air in my front tire again escaped. I have to stop, dismount, get the bag off my back, extract the pump, and try to fill the tire again. Now my jeans are getting wet, a real treat when riding a bike, wet jeans are. Several other commuters pass, nobody says a thing, or offers help. It's raining and they don't seem happy about it either.

Okay, got some air in the tire, not a lot, but I don't want to stress the patch, so I try to ride with my weight over the back wheel as much as I can. The wind changes direction a bit, so now it's coming more from the side and behind, and it doesn't get in my eyes. After a half mile, the wind pretty much lets up, the rain falls a bit more steady, and my tire is flat again. By now, I'm so happy about it, that I decide that I'm just going to ride it flat - all the way home. If I lean back pretty good, it seems to roll easy enough, but any cracks or speed bumps really send a jolt to the wrists... But screw it, I just want to go home.

About two miles up the path, I pass two of the riders that passed me earlier when I was stopped. A third is about a half mile ahead, and I catch him at the next stop where the path crosses a major traffic artery. He knows I'm there, but won't acknowledge me, but then again, he's wearing a pair of Oakley Factory Pilot sunglasses (Old school Oakleys) with the dark smoke lenses. I wonder to myself how he can see anything really, in this thunderstorm lighting. We are stopped for about a minute and a half, the entire time I trackstand next to him, not once touching my feet to the ground.. as traffic clears, I rock back once and lunge into the road and cross before him, and continue my slowish front flat tire pace. I never see him again...

I left work at 5pm, then had to patch the tire and whatnot... the ride should only take me about 35 minutes, but today, it was 50. When I arrive home, the new issue of Dirt Rag (#117)is the mailbox.
:D
I try to look through it, and pay attention to everything; the new articles, what this months letters have to say, products and all, but really I am just looking to see if my latest image was published.

In the "riders eye" section, page 101, voila! there it is. "The Eye Of The Storm". That makes three consecutive issues, #115, 116, and 117. Keen.

I also notice I'm out of patches for my tubes, and pretty broke too.
Then I manage to pull about 5 more goatheads from my wheels, jeez. I am reluctant to put these tires back on, they are getting pretty worn. Found some scrap tires on the back porch, and put those on instead. But they're a tad big. Specialized Infinity, with armadillo technology, and size 700x38c. They just fit in my forks, like it couldn't be any closer, and now my bike looks like a cyclocross fixie or something... anyhow that's about all, I was just stoked to get into Dirt Rag again.. thanks for stopping in !