I don't remember the singular for one choice in French. Un Dinge, that's a thing right? Well in some language anyway, somewhere.
But one choice you have- when you get a flat on your bicycle- is to postpone the inevitable patch/new tire. Balls. I always seem to ram my knuckles into some sharp object when I'm wrenching off, yes, lee-vering the tire from the rim. And today, yesterday being the day I finally patched the front tire of my commuter, I ran over a little piece of glass- in front of my house. I picked it out and a nice solid stream of air came out. Same front tire. Wank.
There's more. A discussion of theft and bicycle lights was followed by? Theft and bicycle lights! Solid. I tried to replace the batteries in a damaged light. No go, that light will burn but won't extinguish. Balls!
Plus, oh the burning lungs! It's cold. And a spider climbed in my gloves and bit my hand! For the 3rd time. So I thought, don't let's wash these, no?
Mission accomplished.
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2 comments:
Crap on the stolen light! As per reporting on my blog, not only did I suffer the loss of a light recently, but the callous CalTrain bike jostler also knoeked a daisy off my basket. Injustice. I feel you pain.
I wish I hadn't made a type-o and/or I knew how to edit comments. Drats.
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