push it home
May. 3rd, 2006 09:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7A short joyride to Anderson's for ice cream last night turned into a long, long adventure. We had our sundaes and contemplated the lovely evening, and Z said, "let's scoot farther." I agreed, and we went zipping along merrily. But after a while the bike was handling poorly, wobbly. We got off and looked at the front wheel, which was the wobbling part, and it seemed fine. Puzzled, we continued a little ways. "No," Z said, "it's definitely handling wrong."
I got off again, and immediately noticed: "The rear tire's flat."
"Oh."
Bent rim. How? No idea.
So we were about 2-3 miles from home. There was a gas station right there. So we went over and filled the tire. "It's really hard to push!" Z noted, a bit breathless. But we filled the tire, and it rolled better.
"I don't think it'll hold us both," Z said.
"No," I agreed. "Well, I'll walk home."
Z hopped on the bike and wished me well. "See you at home," he said.
"Yeah," I said. I crossed the street and started walking. I looked back and saw him waiting at the light. When I looked back again, he wasn't there. This annoyed me intensely, as it meant that he'd gone over a block to go up the next street, so I wouldn't pass him if he broke down up the street i was going. I considered making the walk over to the next street, but decided against it-- it was too far out of my way.
So I walked home. I peered into a pub as I went by and determined that the Sabres were winning Game Six of their series with the Flyers, which is a good thing, but I didn't go in, and nobly continued home.
Z wasn't there yet, so I went to retrieve my cellphone. Sure enough, there was a very brief voicemail on it: "Oh. You don't have your phone."
No shit, Z. I don't tend to carry it on quick jaunts to the ice cream parlor.
So I called him back. His tire was flat and it was very hard to push the bike, so he was stuck. In fact he was on the street I'd been on; he'd just been invisible for the crucial moments in which I would have noticed that he was not there. I swear to God I looked for him and could not find him.
It took us over an hour to push it a mile. We stopped three blocks from home, at a little dive bar down the street. We went in and had a drink, leaving the bike outside: "If someone wants to steal it, more power to 'em," Z said. He bought me a tall rum and coke, and he had a glass of water and a mug of beer. The TV was on commercials, but in a moment it came back and showed us that the Sabres were ahead 6-1.
So we sat and watched for a little while, wedged into a corner because we knew we smelled bad and also everyone else in the bar knew each other.
But once it was 7-1 we decided to just go home. We got ourselves pumped up and took turns shoving the bike down the street--- we could each only manage about half a block before falling over in exhaustion. Half our efforts were required just to keep the thing upright. We finally made it home and fell over and just lay there for a while. I gave up and just crawled into bed.
This morning I woke and said (not first thing, but close) to Z: "What was the final score on the Sabres game?"
He shrugged. "Try Sabres.com," he said. I typed it in, and the splash screen came up: "Tickets to round two of the Stanley Cup playoffs go on sale Wednesday 9 am!"
We laughed. "Well," I said, "they won." 7-1, as it turns out: we didn't miss anything really.
I had a lovely day yesterday, but my clever plan to get the tomatoes in the ground just after dinner obviously didn't happen. It was full dark by the time I got home, and I didn't have the energy to take the clothes down from the line.
But I did get some herbs transplanted, so we should be well on our way to having excellent garnishes henceforth. The thyme, lemon thyme, tarragon, and chives are all at full power already, being perennials. Perennials are odd and magical things, i must admit.
I got off again, and immediately noticed: "The rear tire's flat."
"Oh."
Bent rim. How? No idea.
So we were about 2-3 miles from home. There was a gas station right there. So we went over and filled the tire. "It's really hard to push!" Z noted, a bit breathless. But we filled the tire, and it rolled better.
"I don't think it'll hold us both," Z said.
"No," I agreed. "Well, I'll walk home."
Z hopped on the bike and wished me well. "See you at home," he said.
"Yeah," I said. I crossed the street and started walking. I looked back and saw him waiting at the light. When I looked back again, he wasn't there. This annoyed me intensely, as it meant that he'd gone over a block to go up the next street, so I wouldn't pass him if he broke down up the street i was going. I considered making the walk over to the next street, but decided against it-- it was too far out of my way.
So I walked home. I peered into a pub as I went by and determined that the Sabres were winning Game Six of their series with the Flyers, which is a good thing, but I didn't go in, and nobly continued home.
Z wasn't there yet, so I went to retrieve my cellphone. Sure enough, there was a very brief voicemail on it: "Oh. You don't have your phone."
No shit, Z. I don't tend to carry it on quick jaunts to the ice cream parlor.
So I called him back. His tire was flat and it was very hard to push the bike, so he was stuck. In fact he was on the street I'd been on; he'd just been invisible for the crucial moments in which I would have noticed that he was not there. I swear to God I looked for him and could not find him.
It took us over an hour to push it a mile. We stopped three blocks from home, at a little dive bar down the street. We went in and had a drink, leaving the bike outside: "If someone wants to steal it, more power to 'em," Z said. He bought me a tall rum and coke, and he had a glass of water and a mug of beer. The TV was on commercials, but in a moment it came back and showed us that the Sabres were ahead 6-1.
So we sat and watched for a little while, wedged into a corner because we knew we smelled bad and also everyone else in the bar knew each other.
But once it was 7-1 we decided to just go home. We got ourselves pumped up and took turns shoving the bike down the street--- we could each only manage about half a block before falling over in exhaustion. Half our efforts were required just to keep the thing upright. We finally made it home and fell over and just lay there for a while. I gave up and just crawled into bed.
This morning I woke and said (not first thing, but close) to Z: "What was the final score on the Sabres game?"
He shrugged. "Try Sabres.com," he said. I typed it in, and the splash screen came up: "Tickets to round two of the Stanley Cup playoffs go on sale Wednesday 9 am!"
We laughed. "Well," I said, "they won." 7-1, as it turns out: we didn't miss anything really.
I had a lovely day yesterday, but my clever plan to get the tomatoes in the ground just after dinner obviously didn't happen. It was full dark by the time I got home, and I didn't have the energy to take the clothes down from the line.
But I did get some herbs transplanted, so we should be well on our way to having excellent garnishes henceforth. The thyme, lemon thyme, tarragon, and chives are all at full power already, being perennials. Perennials are odd and magical things, i must admit.
