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Sunday, February 05, 2012


I get accused of having TMS, riding with too much shit on my bike.

It's a criticism I generally ignore, but the other night I almost left my coat at the office because I was riding home and wouldn't need it. I carry the coat mainly because if you have a flat when you're all sweaty, and you're not any faster at changing flats than me, you're more comfortable if you put the coat on and then deal with changing the tube.

I started hearing a squeaky sound as I rode through Westport. I thought it was coming from my front wheel, couldn't figure for sure what it was other than that it was loudest when I pushed the left pedal (that was a clue).

By 21st and Summit the crank got so stiff I couldn't make it turn. It was in the 20s and I was sweaty, so I'd have gotten pretty miserable without my coat.

Corinna looked up the bus schedules and called me with an answer about where to catch the Max faster than I could pull up the schedule on my phone, and I got home with a new tale of urban adventure and an absolute vindication of my TMS.

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