zingerella (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
zingerella) wrote2009-06-16 10:30 am
zingerella) wrote2009-06-16 10:30 am
Kindness in the City
Cycling through the valley, this morning, I noticed the unmistakable squoodgy feeling of an incipient flat in my rear tire. So I found a long stretch of path through a meadow, where people could see me from both directions, and where there was some space to pull off the path, stopped, and checked.
Sure enough, a tack had buried itself in my rear tire, from which the air was gently, but assuredly, hissing.
Took off the pannier, and found the patch kit. Disengaged the rear brake. Flipped the bike over and took the rear wheel off. Started to pull out the inner tube.
A grizzled cyclist in spandex shorts stopped. "Everything okay?" he asked.
"Yep," said I, "just a flat. No biggie!"
"You sure?"
"Yep, thanks!"
He cycled on. I extracted the inner tube, and found the puncture. Opened the patch kit. A cyclist in a bright jersey and mirror sunglasses slowed.
"Need a hand?"
"No, thanks! I'm good!"
"Okay!" He cycled on.
I roughed up the area around the puncture. Dabbed it with glue. Waited for the glue to dry. A couple of old guys with stuff lashed all over their bikes stopped.
"You need a hand?"
"Thanks! I'm good!"
They cycled on.
Another guy stopped as I was putting the newly patched inner tube back on the wheel, to ask if I needed a pump. I had one, but thanked him. Someone else offered me a hand as I put the wheel back on the bike.
All in all, in the 20 minutes or so that I was stopped by the side of the path, calmly patching my tire, at least seven people stopped to make sure I was okay, and to offer help.
I love my town.
Sure enough, a tack had buried itself in my rear tire, from which the air was gently, but assuredly, hissing.
Took off the pannier, and found the patch kit. Disengaged the rear brake. Flipped the bike over and took the rear wheel off. Started to pull out the inner tube.
A grizzled cyclist in spandex shorts stopped. "Everything okay?" he asked.
"Yep," said I, "just a flat. No biggie!"
"You sure?"
"Yep, thanks!"
He cycled on. I extracted the inner tube, and found the puncture. Opened the patch kit. A cyclist in a bright jersey and mirror sunglasses slowed.
"Need a hand?"
"No, thanks! I'm good!"
"Okay!" He cycled on.
I roughed up the area around the puncture. Dabbed it with glue. Waited for the glue to dry. A couple of old guys with stuff lashed all over their bikes stopped.
"You need a hand?"
"Thanks! I'm good!"
They cycled on.
Another guy stopped as I was putting the newly patched inner tube back on the wheel, to ask if I needed a pump. I had one, but thanked him. Someone else offered me a hand as I put the wheel back on the bike.
All in all, in the 20 minutes or so that I was stopped by the side of the path, calmly patching my tire, at least seven people stopped to make sure I was okay, and to offer help.
I love my town.