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magidI headed north again this morning, still entranced by the smooth surface of the underpass outside Union Square, even though it's unpleasant to Sullivan after that. And I remembered to put on sunblock, though it would've been smart to bring more with me. I made it up to North Reading on Rte. 28, which felt like an accomplishment (I don't know that I've ever been there before, other than on a highway). It was time to start turning back, and I looped around Rtes. 62 and 129 (there's a nice lake in Wakefield! who knew?), then back to 28 heading south.
This was all good until I was just past the on-ramp to 93, when I blew a tire, with a sharp *bang*. I had a spare inner tube with me, but not a tire. And, yes, I'm still not one of the cell phone nation. Oops.
However, I am a very very lucky person: a guy came by on his walk, and said that once he got back to his Jeep, he could give me a ride to the nearest bike store. Which was incredibly nice. He kept walking south, and I headed after him, going more slowly in my stockinged feet (bike cleats like mine are very much not designed for walking). A couple of bikers checked in when they saw me, but none happened to have a tire on them (not that I expected anyone to, but it made the conversation more interesting). Ray (the guy) met me at the rotary; I figured out later I'd walked about a mile and a half. Note to proponents of walking barefoot: there's a ton of crud on the roads, and pavement gets *hot* in the summer!
Ray drove me to the bike store in Malden... except it's closed on Sundays. (Which seems pretty stupid to me, but what do I know.) So he drove me back home to Cambridge, chatting about his wife's health, his grandkids, visiting the Cape. I am incredibly grateful to him, making what could have been a major inconvenience into something much more manageable. He would take nothing other than my thanks.
I walked over to Broadway Bike, which was open. They changed my tire, and I was able to make it to the bridal shower relatively on time.
Thanks again, Ray.
This was all good until I was just past the on-ramp to 93, when I blew a tire, with a sharp *bang*. I had a spare inner tube with me, but not a tire. And, yes, I'm still not one of the cell phone nation. Oops.
However, I am a very very lucky person: a guy came by on his walk, and said that once he got back to his Jeep, he could give me a ride to the nearest bike store. Which was incredibly nice. He kept walking south, and I headed after him, going more slowly in my stockinged feet (bike cleats like mine are very much not designed for walking). A couple of bikers checked in when they saw me, but none happened to have a tire on them (not that I expected anyone to, but it made the conversation more interesting). Ray (the guy) met me at the rotary; I figured out later I'd walked about a mile and a half. Note to proponents of walking barefoot: there's a ton of crud on the roads, and pavement gets *hot* in the summer!
Ray drove me to the bike store in Malden... except it's closed on Sundays. (Which seems pretty stupid to me, but what do I know.) So he drove me back home to Cambridge, chatting about his wife's health, his grandkids, visiting the Cape. I am incredibly grateful to him, making what could have been a major inconvenience into something much more manageable. He would take nothing other than my thanks.
I walked over to Broadway Bike, which was open. They changed my tire, and I was able to make it to the bridal shower relatively on time.
Thanks again, Ray.