From Wikipedia:

The dog days or dog days of summer are the hot, sultry days of summer. They were historically the period following the heliacal rising of the star system Sirius (known colloquially as the “Dog Star”), which Hellenistic astrology connected with heat, drought, sudden thunderstorms, lethargy, fever, mad dogs, and bad luck. (emphasis mine)

So, there I was, JRA, when I heard the squelchy sound of my Nobilette’s front tire going flat despite its sealant-filled inner tube.

I was en route to the meetup for the twice-weekly Geezer Ride, so I pulled over, drew my phone, and texted my fellow graybeards to advise that I had had a mechanical and was returning to base. I had only the one spare tube, Herself was at work, and it had been too hot for one of those long walks home in Sidis from a previous millennium.

When I got back to El Rancho Pendejo and opened the garage door I was reminded that I had all these other bikes hanging around. Thinking I could still catch up with the lads if I took a quick, dirty shortcut over to High Desert via the Embudito trailhead, I grabbed a Steelman Eurocross and did exactly that.

We rode around and about for a while, solving the knotty problems of the world, and as I had been denied some of the early miles I decided to tack on a few at the end, riding two of the brothers home and then picking up Trail 365 at Rebonito Road for a little more dirty fun.

Hanging a 90-degree left onto the bridge at the Piedra Lisa Canyon trailhead south of Candelaria I felt the front tire try to squirm out from under its rim. Judas Priest! Another front flat? Indeed.

Happily, I had thought to reload the saddlebag with a fresh spare tube, so I quickly returned the Steelman to working order and rode home.

Back at the ranch, I took the opportunity to give the Nobilette a fresh goopy tube, which went smoove like butta. But when I tried to do likewise with the Steelman the freshly installed tube refused to inflate for some reason.

Defective tube, maybe? Or pump head clogged with old sealant? I disassembled that, gave it a cursory cleaning (which means cursing while cleaning it), put it back together, and had another go. Still bupkis.

“I should ring up the Fed, tell them I’ve found a solution to their inflation problem,” I muttered. Then I grabbed another tube, one not installed in a tire, and tried pumping it up to see if anything happened.

And something did. The fucking thing exploded, launching huge gobs of yellowish sealant throughout the living room. Because of course I work on my bikes in the living room. That’s where the air conditioning is.

You will recall “The Exorcist?” This made Regan’s eruptions look like a sneeze that missed the Kleenex.

I gave the living room a very cursory cleaning, replaced the Steelman on its hook sans a reloaded front wheel (the pump head apparently perished in the explosion), and — not for the first time — considered taking up bowling.