Number One

In anticipation of June lemonade stands

I was pedaling slowly up the hill from Magnuson park on my good old road bike. Just taking my time I told myself, but I think not having my strong biking legs from when I rode more had a bigger part to play in it than the relaxed morning. Regardless, as I puttered up the hill, a fellow of about my age cranked past me on an old beat up mountain bike. My word, he was hoofing it.

I made it up the hill to right near Roosevelt High School, locked up my bike and walked around the area, thinking, not thinking, averting-a-potential-mugging, and looking for and occasionally taking photos.  Then I saw him again. He was, with a relaxed a lazy-summer pace, riding back to where he’d come from, towards the hill down to the lake. Dangling off his handlebars was a newly-acquired sack of three yellow lemons from the farm-market-store across the street.

I thought, thought and then smiled.

Warming-springtime lemonade.

Number Two

An inner tube’s fate

I was riding along on the sidewalk of 15th, north of 55th, enjoying the blue sky. Again, I was taking my time meandering along, so I was not terribly paying attention to the walk in front of me. For a moment I did pay attention, just in time to see all the shattered glass as I rode over it. Ah crap I thought–but maybe I’ll get lucky.

I wasn’t wearing gloves, so I had to use my foot to clean my tires as I rode. This is a fine art–too little pressure, and you risk not sufficiently cleaning off the tire. Too much and the tire grabs your shoe, yanking it toward the frame, where it will wedge between the frame and tire, and then you crash in a very awkward position. Not cool.

Naturally I gave this task a lot of attention. I was trying very hard to make sure my foot didn’t get sucked between the frame and tire. So it was that I didn’t see coming the pothole that gave my rear tire a pinch flat.

It’s safe to conclude that today was that inner tube’s day to go.