Fix Your Flat

I have a running gag with some friends that when they pass by my domain in Molumbia (the name for my postage-stamp parcel of land) that they have to get permission to fly through the air space so to speak, so I don't send my Russian Mig jets to intercept interlopers, friend or foe.  I got 'em cheap on Craigslist.

Thus, yesterday I received such a call. I am thinking about granting seasonal passes so I don't have to approve each request. But, it would be wise to review peoples' status quarterly to ensure that they are still worthy of such approval. My good friend was riding his bike to the river  in the afternoon and made such a request which I benevolently approved. It is a hard and hefty ride from the city of Lancaster where he was riding from. I decided to escort him through the air space of Molumbia and beyond. We agreed to meet in Mountville (the pet name of Molumia is a mash-up of Mountville and Columbia). After two hard weeks of working on students' schedules at school, and completing the task, a uptempo ride was just what the Dr. ordered. A nice work-out and sweat.

I have a Columbia address but don't reside in that raw bare-knuckled town. I am out here in the 'burbs but like the street cred having a Columbia address, even if it is a front. Keeps people wary of me because Columbia folk are rough and tough. Being a puny man, I have to project big.

It was a very hot and humid day and I booked it down to the rendezvous point on my trusty Trek hybrid. A great bike that has lasted for 15 years with very little problems besides my trying to make it a mountain bike and cracking the pedal crank and routine maintenance.

As I got within a block or two of the meeting spot, my back tire went flat. Fortunately, last week I had finally put an air pump and a tire and inner tube repair kit back on the bike. It had been years since I had this stuff on there. I rode my other Trek, a high-end mountain bike, for the last five years or so almost exclusively, but I am trending away from mountain biking for the time being because my riding partner and I have just had a more difficult time coordinating rides since he is no longer local.

With the paved rail-trail by the river, it also is providing an off-road option for riding which keeps me free of the dangers of reckless and distracted drivers who can't seem to keep their phones out of their faces. I also really cannot afford another concussion.

So my pal and I patched the inner tube and back to riding we went, down to the river and back. We had some decent pace and it is great to have friends my age who have not given up on life and who are still active physically. In middle age, if one has lost conditioning, it is steep climb to get it back. But, if one stays active, then the decline is less precipitous. Too many people our age throw in the towel, get fat, and resign themselves to the recliner and television. Waiting for the Reaper to knock.

God doesn't want us to give up. We are made to move. Like water that sits still in a ditch, we get nasty and putrid by inactivity. Walk, run, lift, ride, swim, climb, dance, etc. We have to find activities that are fun so that we stick with it but find it we must. Inertia is deadly, and where the body is, the mind and soul will soon follow. Don't let the air go out of your life.

P.S. The yellow on the tire was because we had just crossed over some newly painted lines on the street. I thought it was the fraying of the tire and heat-induced. My man at the back shop I go to pointed out it was paint. The cause of the flat was a sliver of glass which resulted in the fixed flat to go flat again which neither I nor my friend noticed when we did the repair job. As it was, I got within a block of my Haus before it went flat again which was much better than being five miles away at our meeting spot. That would have been a long walk back. Plus, a good reminder to try and find out the reason for the flat to start with.