So there I was, just riding along, when the rear tire started going softer than Brett Kavanaugh’s FBI background check.
I was already heading home, so I figured I’d just head there faster. But first I stopped to pump the tire up a bit because cornering on the rim at speed is always iffy.
That worked, for a while, but it was clear I would have to stop to give the ol’ Zéfal another workout if I wanted to ride this mess home, where the floor pump, workstand, and air conditioning reside.
So there I was, just pumping along, when a couple young women on mountain bikes rolled up.
“Do you need any help?” one asked brightly.
“No, thanks, I’m good,” I replied. And off they went.
Wasn’t that nice of the younguns, to offer aid and comfort to the auld fella? Lucky for them I wasn’t a Supreme Court justice.