Took a stretch with the new season, un-pedalled for three such since the beginning of the mad panic. Not for nothing, rode a rounder radius than had been usual, in anxious regard for the backup bike's being dodgier than is already classic for a backup bike – that is, less reliable maaaybe, what would amount to a per se potential of being less so serviceable (in the able to be serviced sense).
The idea, you see, is whenever the backup is mobilised, bicycle A must be serviced apace. Unless it's to stay an unusable alternate, having thus just become a backup itself. One might think, as one am apt, the immediate toil of repair would drub the purposeful luxury of making good on a backup. But an apter awareness prevails who thinks about the purpose of the words backup and good. Make good on the backup without delay. Whether remaining true to this theosophy has termed itself successful is anyone's guess. For one cannot know what might have been in terms of the delay not prolonged. So hypothetically, if not today, will the defaulted backup be righted from its unserviceable state? No broken backup needed. No matter how short.
Neither here nor there. One does not grab primary secondary in the middle of nowhere. One grabs it, for instance, fortunately less deflated than the tyre found flat on primary primary while unlocking it in the courtyard. Also neither here nor there. Bike B is in theory still in go mode. Discounting this digression, which should only serve to beset the scenery with the digressor's stream of apprehension, for what was actually afoot, the length of road had to be fit for the risk. Though lengthier, the length taken was aligned with underground stops to be attainable more directly via un-agitated foot than the normal way would.
A familiar strain accompanied the rolling along, whereby the roll's inefficiency introduced itself directly to the strrretch, as would be the case in both directions – in the a.m. and the subsequent p.m. A rubberband guy, me.
While the way out managed to meet its deadline, the symbolic release of tension availed the direction home a calmer breath by time. No need for the subway's safety net, the old route would do the trick. It happens just so this concludes near the beneficent bike-keep's complementary air. A pump affixed in permanence outside the shoppe window against those who abuse consideration for selfishness is uncommon nonetheless in its round-the-clock accessibility.
Whereas the greater distance of the day had been as if suddenly my wheels were wheels in mud, from this stop along the normal path near home emerged an irony with which the former risk assessment terminated looking back on the ride that might have been. No well. The lesson is reduce the literal surface tension. No. The lesson is not to forget that lesson.
Thence availed of higher psi force, the mere meters to home were likewise lent a release reminiscent of the adolescent 'Aha!' at first roll each spring. It goes, Hweee...
Here y' go!
Or if you like, here's her stoned version from eleven. I'm easy.
