There it was. My 2nd flat. Fuck.
And I had used the means by which I had to fix “a” flat, but not two. I’m an idiot. And, at this point way out on Skyline Road well north and west of Portland, a stranded idiot.
I had the eternal “two choice” question faced by cyclists in my predicament.
1. Wait for another rider to come by that will respect the code and help out.
2. Telephone for an emergency vehicular evac, or a munitions drop.
It was getting a bit late in the day, but this road is used by cyclists all day it seems. I chose not to choose. And then I remembered I had purchased and installed the new Pentabike Muststash – a smuggling device so ingenious Han Solo himself making the Kessel Run with it would jizz all over Chewie in an instant upon seeing it.
It’s a bar end, so what? Is that what you’re asking. Well, you see, this little sucker is more than a bar end. Look a little closer. It’s a bar end with a payload that, considering the situation I was in, was a life saver of another kind. A kind that made my “Two Choice” predicament a “Three Choice Predicament.” Adding to the aforementioned two I now had: 3. Get stoned and figure it out later.
So I did.
I leaned the bike and myself against a tree in a piece of sun and put the Muststash through it’s maiden voyage. It was the best decision I could make at the time.