There are many things to be grateful for heading in to the Easter weekend.
Blue sky, spring blooms, warm weather, the pink full moon, new friends, cracking the 100 mile mark on my latest Diamondback wheels.
This month is Bike Fest month in Tucson. It also feels as if there is a feverish pace to squeeze the last bit of cool(er) weather fun in before the hottest hot of the southwestern desert beckons bicyclists to seek a siesta or swimming pool versus a sun drenched mid-day ride.
As college students head into finals and the end of their school year, immediately followed by the K-12 summer recess, the mercury has already set some records. This must be a harbinger of things to come in 2017.
With a hotter drier desert that is in full bloom, achu, riding The Loop brings fragrant smells, cotton tails dashing to the shade, and…drying, thorn producing, plants.
I’m curious how long-term Tucson cyclists keep air in their tires. What is the secret?
I haven’t seen the goat heads or sand spurs here like I’ve had to dig out of many tires and dog paws. Yet…maybe instead of May showers I’ll find thorny streams and shiny glass pools to torment my tubes. NO! raining on my bike parade.
I’ve gathered quite a collection that I dug out of my rear tire today after replacing the pancake flat front tire/tube that greeted me after work.
Was it a good Friday or a bad? I’ve decided that it is all good.
Part of bucking the trend of car ownership is being willing to be as flexible as possible. Flexibility and the occasional request for help are critical to the peddled path of life.
And so it was when the Friday flat deflated my wild flower picture-taking plans — I found myself asking for a lift. A newly arrived transplant heard my plea and in true “Midwest nice” fashion loaded my broken bike into the back of his truck.
They say what goes around comes around and I realized that not 24 hours earlier I had come across a woman, bike on the ground, sitting on the curb. I stopped to see if she had wrecked, was hurt, needed anything. She explained that she had a call in for a ride, she was ok and I told her I’d wait with her. She expressed thanks at my willingness to stop and help.
As countless cars, trucks, vans and motorcycles speed by me, I’m profoundly glad that I’ve taken the road less traveled. I’m happy that I have built-in moments to engage with the world and with other people. I’m thrilled to travel at the speed limit of my lungs and legs.
It is a Good Friday indeed. Flat and all.