My brother and I like our new hobby

Ride to and more importantly home from Valley Forge

The first time my brother and I attempted a ride from Roxborough to Valley Forge two miles into the ride a bee stung my hand on the webbing between the middle and ring finger. It hurt. We rode on, because we’re men and men ride on, but when my hand started to swell, become numb and then wouldn’t squeeze the brake handle I said, “Brother, I'm a pussy. I need to go.” That day we made it a little past Conshohocken.

The second attempt, the Friday before the school year resumed, I rode solo from Roxborough to Valley Forge. The bike needed new tires, but I decided that instead of spending the three hours of free time I had shopping for new and then changing the tires I’d ride to Valley Forge, a 30 mile round trip, and fix the bike one night after the kids went to sleep. The tires could handle another ride. I made it to Valley Forge and felt good. It was my first long ride in years and I sat by the river, drinking cold water and feeling good about the 75 miles September 27. Then I noticed a bubble in the rear tire. I borrowed electrical tape from a contractor eating lunch in the park, wound tape around the tire and rim and hit the road to the city. The tire blew a mile from Valley Forge. I had nothing but my wallet and cell phone. Calling Jackie to pick me up wasn’t an option, she’s annoyed that I’ve adopted another hobby, so I walked the bike to the Norristown train station. While on foot, an inbound train passed me. I arrived at the station and waited 54 minutes for the next train. The train ride is a short one from Norristown to Manayunk. Possibly the worst part of the experience was the personal humiliation I suffered walking the bike up the wall to get home. I felt the eyes of people passing by and longed to explain, “I’m not a wimp, look see here, my tire is just flat. I’d ride the wall if my tire held air.”

So today when my brother and I went out for our ride to Valley Forge I packed a bag with a spare tube, wrenches, tire levers, and a leatherman. We needed them all. About three miles into the ride my brother ended up with a nasty staple in his rear tire. He was pissed because we’re not training like we should. Then I told him, “I packed everything we need let’s fix it now.” It took 20 minutes. We also discovered if you’re out on a Saturday on the Schuylkill trail and blow a tire, every fifth biker will slow to ask if you need any tools. Unbelievable. My brother and I like our new hobby even if our wives don’t.

The numbers on today’s ride:
Miles: 30
Time to destination: unknown
Time home: -60 minutes
Flats: 1
Bee stings: 0 (which reminds me, I need to pack a bee sting kit)