Bad hair day

And this is the second one in four months. Actually, I was having a good run before this, but "failure of spares" seems to be a recurring theme right now. It's always good fun to walk out of work and find a flat tyre. Of course, this shouldn't be a problem. Just insert the spare, pump it up, and you're off again. However, it didn't quite work out that way this time around. First of all, the spare (a brand new tube for that matter) didn't hold any air. I located two punctures and patched them both, but it was still leaking.

At this point I gave up on the spare, and went back to the original tube, where I was able to find the leak (or so I thought). Three patches later... Actually, I think that one was just coming apart at the seams. By now, of course, time was getting on a little, and the nearest bike shop had just closed (I walked over and checked to make certain). Shit. I was supposed to be meeting Martin for a ride at 7pm, there was no way I was going to make that now. Hang on, he lives close by, and if they can phone a friend on that stupid Who Wants to be a Millionaire show (the one for the people too stupid to be on Sale of the Century), surely I'm entitled to do the same thing.

A 2km walk to Martin's place enabled me to get hold of a tube that would hold some air, so I could be on my way again. Not so fast, as the light mount on the back of my saddlebag then decided to break as well. Great. Still, I had the panniers from the ride to work, so I managed to rig up an emergency mount on one of them, and now I was free. The ride home was one of those lethargic "when will this day be over" rides. Surfers Paradise (a.k.a Sufferer's Parasite) was as full of idiots as it usually is, except that a 31 degrees C night seemed to make things worse.

I managed to pick them off without getting annoyed (mainly because I was beyond that point now), then an amazing thing happened. As I entered Broadbeach, and got up close and personal with the ocean, the traffic disappeared. For a few moments, it was just me and the roar of the endlessly rolling South Pacific. For a few moments, all in the world was right, and nothing mattered. Even if (unthinkably) something else broke, it would be an easy walk home anyway. To borrow a quote from Sarah Blasko (because she's amazing):

Always worth it,
if only to realise.
Not always perfect,
but somehow deserving of time.

That moment next to the ocean, made all this crap worthwhile. I would do well to remember another quote from Sarah Blasko:

If only you were at your best, instead of fighting yourself as well.

Next time I'll remember to check the bloody spares before hand, and all this could have been avoided.