Today I went for what I call my "Grand Old Duke of York" bike ride. Unlike the Duke, I do not have 10,000 men (probably a good thing) but when time is short I do like to ride "up to the top of the hill and ... down again."
The day started miserably, with yet more snow, temperature hovering around zero and a nasty sort of fog hanging in the air. But by the time we'd eaten lunch, the sun was out and our backyard thermometer said +7. Well, that was too good to pass up, so I decided to head for the hills.
However, today is son #4's 21st birthday, and I'd promised to make him a carrot cake, so I knew my cycling time was limited. I decided I would ride straight north, up to the top of the hill and then back down again. Actually once I got to the top, I could not resist turning east and riding to the top of another hill, and then going west to the top of yet another, and THEN I finally headed down.
It was a splendid day for riding, although the road was a little wet in spots. And then on the last downhill before heading back into town, I heard a pop. I slowed a little, wondering what had happened and then felt that all-too-familiar "thud" of my back tire going flat. I had ridden about 26 km, so that was not too bad, but still disappointing.
I was close enough to town that I simply called Hubby and asked for a ride, but this increased my determination to learn how to repair a flat. That is my goal for the next week or so. I'll bring my laptop down to the garage and watch as many "How to change a tire tube" videos as it takes.
And now to go and put the carrot cake in the oven.
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