Another Bike Ride

Saturday night, 9/16.

I left the house at 8:00pm to get 'stuff' to fix spots of corrosion on my 2004 Lemond Zurich. Against my better judgement I head to WalMart where I've not set foot in since last year. Well, hey, they *are* open! Imagine that. The security guy asks me to leave my backpack and pump at the door, so I do. I also pick up some stuff to tackle the rust on my vintage Nashbar bike. I figure since I'm there, why not?

Anyway, after leaving Wally's world I head to the bank and make a deposit. Then I decide to ride some more since it's *such* an excellent night out. I head over to an unfamiliar area to do some exporation riding, to see if I can locate some connections to other familiar roads. These new developments are the Cul de Sac overloads, but I finally do find connector streets to another of my favorite city routes. I'm about 24 miles or so into the ride at this point and decide to head on back home on an oft travelled route.

While going through the parking lot at a local factory, I hear my rear tire flatting. No problem, I have all the time in the world and nothing pressing me for time. I'm free! So I head over to the well-lit (electricity sucking) parking lot of a local mega church (think Six Flags Over Jesus - apologies to Garrison Keillor) to change the tire. Ok... I have a PROBLEM! I've left my pump at Walmart. I totally forgot to pick it up. DANG! It's 11:00pm. After a brief reality check I decide I'm still having a good time. BUT, I don't think it would be a good time to bother/wake someone for a ride home. So I walk to the nearby Minit Mart and attempt to call a cab from my cell phone, but Singular infomation gives me an incorrect number for yellow cab (3 times they do this). The MinitMart clerk was no help. He wouldn't look up a number in the local phone book for me), so I walk to the liqour store across from Lost River Cave. They have just closed for business, but I knock on the glass anyway.

Inside the liquour store they are counting out rolls of bills by the open cash register. 'They' being a man, a boy (14 maybe?) a woman, and another man who is sitting in a chair and spinning the chambers of a loaded revolver. They all look up in unison when I knock on the glass door. The man with a gun stops spinning the chamber and locks it into place. They see a middle age man in spandex with a helmet, dorky mirror, reflectors and blinky lights everywhere walking a black bicycle with a rainbow sticker at 11:15 on a Saturday night. I see potential felons. I ask the man without a gun if he would call a cab for me. I figure he's had experience. He calls the number from memory. I thank him, remove the wheels from the Nashbar (for the cab) and do leg stretches in the parking lot while waiting. I figure it can't get any stranger for the folks on the other side of the glass, so why not? The boy observes me from the door, waving when we make eye contact. A half hour later the cab shows up and takes me to Walmart where I find the pump exactly where I left it. I buy a new tire since the old one is ripped, and the actual changeout takes only a few minutes.

I *finally* get home at 1:05a.m. Sunday morning, 5 hours from the time I left. This has been the longest flat thirty mile ride I've ever been on. Good time? You bet!