Boo finally posed for a photo without giving me the squinty eyes or begging for food. Only took 6 years!

Commuter Karma

Alright, alright, I've learned my lesson.

I hopped on my bike Monday afternoon and headed the long way home. The longer route goes down Tipton St. then left up Neubert Springs, and then right down Martin Mill Pike. It is a much more enjoyable trip than Maryville Pike at 5 o'clock. The pot holes combined with pissy drivers trying to get home stresses me out a little bit after a long day at work.

So I'm riding along all fine and dandy, enjoying the weather, and I'm about to hit Martin Mill Pike when, pssssttt!! - a flat tire. Now, I have always been "that person" who hardly ever carries the necessary items to fix a flat because "I always have my cell phone, and I'll just call somebody". Makes sense, right? But, it seems this doesn't really work out when A) people are still at work, B) people don't answer their cell phones, or C) live too far away to be helpful.

There I am on the side of the road, trying to figure out why I flatted. I check the tire - no holes or punctures or sharp objects. Alright, well, guess I'll start walking and try to catch the bus. I know I'm going to be walking for awhile, so I go ahead and put my running shoes back on and start walking down Martin Mill. (super fun! everyone should try it!)

I get down Martin Mill in one piece and I'm almost to the bus stop when I notice the construction that is being done on Maryville Pike. Hmm, me thinks there will be no buses running down here today. So I keep walking for a few more minutes when Rebecca Falls rides by and asks if I need help. THANK YOU LORD!!! Rebecca saved me a couple more miles worth of walking, and I will be forever grateful. Luckily, the 25c road tube didn't explode while being pumped up to fit a 32c cross tire. And, I would like to say that we changed that tube pretty darn quick - go us!

Anyway, like I said above, I have learned my lesson and stocked up on flat fixing tools so I won't have any more 2 hour treks home.

Now after all that, I commuted to work the next day and found some goodies along the side of the road. Jeremy refers to them as "commuting primes" (Prime: An award given for the rider to reach a certain point mid-race in a sprint. Pronounced "preem." French). The only thing I ended up keeping was a pair of wire cutters that I'm sure will come in handy at some point at the house. One less trip to Lowe's, right?.