Ah, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages!

I sing the song of spring, of the earth awakening from its slumber.
I sing of soft ground, not wet, but loosened from the icy grip of winter.
I sing the song of the long, fresh light after the equinox.
And I sing the chorus of man and machine, working in unison.

Ah, but what would a story be without a twist?

For, like the serpent tempted Eve in the Garden, there are green snakes with Fangs in the Garden of springtime. I speak, of course of the dreaded thorns, the snaky green menace that runs rampant in the new-growth forest that blankets New England.

So, much like my last ride, I’m going to be fixing a tire tonight.

However, this story is not complete. Hubris will make an appearance, just like any good Greek playwright knows it must.

Unlike last time, where I picked up the thorn late in the ride, and didn’t know I’d bought a tire change until I got home, this time I picked up the thorn early in the ride, while lost… I mean, exploring a new route. Once I found myself and got back on track, I noticed the tire going flat while I was making a wicked fast descent and wondering why the back tire was sliding around. Looked down between trees, and noticed it was flattening.

D’oh. And, what – Me without a tube and pump? Say it isn’t so…

Turned around, and rode gingerly back to the parking lot. By the time I got back, the rear tire was almost completely flat. The tube, I’m sure, is riddled with snakebites now, in addition to the thorn.

Ah, years of road riding, you’ve made me soft.

The ride, my friends, was brilliant though. Couldn’t buy a nicer day even if I could fly myself wherever. Trails were in great shape, legs and lungs felt good, and I cleaned a climb that I’d never made before. The new bike still feels a little bit short, but I’m thinking more and more that I wasn’t fit properly before – I’ve got control and power now that I didn’t think was possible.

So, call me an idiot, poke fun at the boy with the flat tire. I’m digging out my short pump and a tube, and adding them to the kit in the trunk. Who wants to take bets on how long it is until my first “real” mechanical, and the multi-tool gets added?

2 thoughts on “Trancen-D’oh-cense”

  1. Repeat after me: Kevlar-belted tires are my friend.

    I think that’s gonna be the recipe in the future. We have thorns down here, too, but not nearly to the extent you have ’em along the Connecticut shore.

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