Bad Bike Week- Part 2

So Richard fixed my flat for the standard $15, which brought my cash-spent-over-bike problems bill to $50 (the other $35 were cab fares.)

Monday, June 15th 

8:20am

I'm biking to work, turning from Gold onto Nassau street in DUMBO, which is completely torn up with construction. I'm a civic cyclist, and thoroughly want to obey all of thebicycle laws, both to express my desire to comply with a city that is showing more support and sympathy for the cyclists, and also to avoid another $150 fine for riding on the sidewalk.

So, it's a tough decision: risk another ticket for safe-riding on the sidewalk, or risk another flat for riding on a road that resembles Mickey Rourke's complexion. I rode on the road and had a flat on my front tire two blocks later. It's 40 minutes until my tour starts and I'm dragging my sorry bicycle to the High Street A train station to get to my tour on time, leaving a blue-streak of explatives all across DUMBO.

1:45pm

After a rousing 4 hour tour for girl scouts (who all wanted to know how the saga of my bicycle drama ended.) I'm back in DUMBO hunting around for Recycle a Bicycle, the local bike shop of the 'hood. I try to keep my bicycle repair-work to the same bike shop if necessary, but it's never that easy. When your bike malfunctions in the middle of a ride, there is a combination of a sense of being stranded, suddenly reduced to 10% of your transportation speed, and anxiety of watching your entire schedule for the day crumble. Instead of a machine that makes you move faster, you are now in possession of 60 lb albatross around your neck. The closest bike shop is the only thing you have to depend on.

So, Recycle a Bicycle fixes my tire for the requisite $15 (at $67 now, including the $4 subway fares) and they tell me it was a pinch-flat from not enough air in my tires. I could've sworn I just inflated them. . . Oh well, I guess that's that. One flat on each tire, and now they're fresh and new.

7:55pm

Ahh. After a nice hour-long class at my dojo: NY Jiu Jitsu on Bond and Broadway, I'm off to meet my tour-guiding buddies Tony and Matt to shoot the shit about the business and complain about the irritating clients we've had to deal with recently.

THUNK, THUNK, THUNK, THUNK, I'm biking along East 2nd street and there is clearly something wrong with my tire. The one that was just fixed. What's this? There appears to be a lump on the side of my tire, and it's hitting my brake-pads every time it rotates. Well, I better get that looked at ASAP, or else it'll-

POP!

So loud, everyone on East 2nd street heard it. And so, breathing heavily through my teeth, I'm hauling my bike once again, suffering the 2nd flat tire in a day, and my third in four days to the Three of Cups bar and restaurant on 1st avenue and East 6th street to bitch and moan and yell about my luck.