Flat

The guy at the bike shop asked me, "So, how many tubes have you replaced?"

For a moment, I wasn't sure how to respond.

He continued: "One to ten? Ten to twenty? A hundred?"

For a moment, I tried to make an actual accounting of how many times I have fixed a flat tire in more than twenty-five years of commuting by bike. "I dunno. Probably in the hundred plus range." I based this on the thought that I probably have about four flats over the course of any year. And when I have one, it often turns into two or three for some statistically ridiculous reason. But once I had let the guy at the bike shop know that I wasn't some weekend newbie, but a warrior like himself, out there riding to live, he let me off the hook. 

"Well, ya know sometimes people who aren't used to putting a tube on -" and he trailed off because he was suddenly picking up that it was Friday afternoon and I had pushed my bike home for the second time in just over a week and was not in the mood to be quizzed about something that shouldn't be happening. Not three flat tires over the course of two weeks. I was "testy" as my mother would sometimes refer to me when I had run out of patience for the limitations of others. I was not of the opinion that I had somehow done something wrong, but rather there was something I needed the guy at the bike store to make right for me. 

Which is about the time that he started to methodically run his fingers inside the tire that had gone flat. Something I do on a regular basis when presented with a flat tire. Looking for some sort of foreign puncturing object that had become lodged on the inside of the tire that was keeping the air from staying inside the tube I keep changing. After a few trips around, the guy from the bike store looked up and said, "Ya know, there are a lot of sideshows around these neighborhoods," I nodded in agreement, "and when they spin their tires, sometimes they leave behind steel microfibers that can get lodged in your tires." Not the kind you can find, apparently, but it made some sense. 

So together we decided that this was one of those freak occasions and that the tire was the cursed object and that it should be replaced. I watched him put a new tube on with a replacement tire. It was holding air. He told me that the installation would be on the house, but I would have the privilege of paying for the new tire and tube. Given the number of times I have changed a tube, I looked at this as a gift. 

And the end of a frustrating Friday night. Hoping it will be a few more months before I have the opportunity to start on that second hundred.