Stubborn Little Irish Boy

17 03 2009

The last day of our weekend. We got some fantastic deals on bike gear for Heidi this morning, then took to the streets for a nice hour spin. She flatted when we were almost home and I didn’t have the right tools on me so I had to race back to the truck and swing around to pick her up. Beers followed. And yeah, what a bummer to flat on your first ride ever on your first road bike ever?! Lame. At least up until that point everything was smooth and gravy. She was even rocking clipless (eggbeaters) pedals for the first time!

Santa Maria!

Santa Maria!

Light Rail: The Silent Killer

Light Rail: The Silent Killer

Over the shoulder.

Over the shoulder.

Mesquite repair stand.

Mesquite repair stand.

Beer and bikes. Wish that one was in my stable.

Beer and bikes. Wish that one was in my stable.

By the way, Happy St. Patrick’s Day! and Happy Shave Yer Man Legs Day! (for all you tri-geeks). With a name like Mackey it’s a safe assumption that I’m Irish…not like all the posers that go out drinking their shitty green-colored swill this one day of the year. Real Irishmen drink whiskey and that’s what happens to be in the cup that I’m firmly grasping at the moment. Drive safe you mofos.

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Flat Memories

24 02 2009

Ahhh…commuting. What a love-hate relation I have with thee. This morning at about 5:30am I threw a leg over the Green Monster and made the 12 mile commute up to work for a 6:30 meeting. After an hour and a half of sipping coffee and looking at my watch I was released for their clutches.

Breakfast.

Breakfast.

Cranking away.

Cranking away.

Hug that line, my friends.

Hug that line, my friends.

Bike lanes are good signage place holders.

Bike lanes are good signage place holders.

So as I cross about the half-way point I suddenly feel a little more vibration in the front than I’d like. Sure ’nuff we’re running low. Real low. And no I didn’t bother to bring anything with me that would help out with this problem besides a wallet and a cell phone. I hiked up about two miles to the nearest bike shop which was closed. After another mile the phone came out and soon after the girlfriend appeared.

The long walk begins.

The walk of shame begins.

At least I'm not lost. I guess.

At least I'm not lost. I guess.

Added to today’s list: put together road repair kit in backpack.