Lately, I have had the good fortune to get about 10 miles in each morning on my ride. This does wonders for my strength and stamina. Needless to say, I love the feeling of riding; the independence and freedom is fantastic.
I got up at my usual unGodly hour this morning for my morning bike ride. Got dressed, strapped my iPhone to my arm, set the GPS app and headed out. A little over one mile into my ride, I felt something ‘hit’ my front tire. The wheel then began making a 'click’ noise with every revolution.
I assumed that I had hit something sticky, like a discarded piece of gum, and it had stuck to the tire and was rubbing the fork with each turn.
1.78 miles into what was becoming a fantastic ride, I got “out of the saddle” to hoof-it up a hill. That is when I noticed with each pump of the pedals, my front tire was rapidly losing air.
Dammit.
So there I was, nearly two miles away from my house, walking uphill, with my bike on my left shoulder and carrying the front wheel in my right hand. In the dark.
As you might imagine, there was not a lot of traffic passing by me at 5:30 in the morning. The glass-half-full dude in me kept thinking, “You know, this is good. This way I’m still getting my exercise, even if it’s not exactly how I had planned it.”
Right. Keep thinking that, Positive Boy.
As I was finally nearing my house – probably about a quarter of a mile away – a large pickup truck approached me from behind. The driver slowed as he was next to me, rolled down his window and said, “Hey, do you need a ride somewhere?”
I smiled, and politely declined, “Aw, thanks – but I’m just around the corner.” The driver waived and drove off, I imagine on his way to work or to Sheetz to get his daily cup o’ joe.
In all of my travels, this is the very first time that someone driving a vehicle has gone out of their way to stop and ask if I needed help. As I continued the rest of my hike-with-a-bike, my heart was happy knowing that someone saw my misfortune and wanted to help.
