Flat

I think I’m starting to become lazy. I used to write a blog as soon as I got off my bike, before shower or food. However, over the last few weeks, my entries have rather trickled in, instead of the flood of a bursting of a dam.

The visits I am referring to today happened two days ago. The reason I have taken a while to recount them is that I simply haven’t been bothered to click on the ‘W’ icon on my desktop and open up a Word document.

But now I’m here, sat by my computer, with a clear memory of my trip two days ago, and a clear understanding of the old Scouts motto ‘Be Prepared’.

So, two days ago was my first bout of mystery shops for my second year of uni. I hadn’t used my bike in four months, and had had it happily leant against the stable in my garden all summer. It felt strange being back on that bike. The tiny wheels, semi-disintegrated gears and low seat that made me look like a failed student in the artistry of clowns. What a beast!

Something was different though. I couldn’t figure it out as I peddled past Hyde Park. Nor could I understand what the problem was as I flew past the uni. It was only as I sat at traffic lights near the train station that I realised my back tyre was flatter than a gymnast’s stomach (excluding 1970s eastern European gymnasts, obviously).

I then looked at my front tyre; flat as well. Four months in the atrocious British summer had ruined my tyres. I’d like to expostulate on the possibility that the low pressure in the atmosphere was a contributing factor to the loss of pressure in my tyres, but that would be silly.

I decided to take my bike to Huddersfield (where my mystery shops were) anyway. Peddling up New Hey Road towards Marsh is a task with a perfect bike, but with my tyres, the uphill slog was as strenuous as whisking frozen custard. Every peddle was an intense push against the added friction my tyres were subjecting me to. But I finally got there.

After my first visit in Marsh, I began my descent back into Huddersfield and along to Wakefield Road. The majority of this is downhill, but because of my tyres, I still had to peddle most of it! Freewheeling on concrete was like slowly squelching through tar. The tyres would simply not budge.

I eventually got to my other store, and then back onto the train to Leeds. As I got in to Leeds, I decided it was pointless trying to bike any more, and so walked up to the university sports centre, to borrow a bike pump.

I asked for a bike pump. The lady in the sports centre gave me a pump. It was a football pump. I only realised this after I’d hoisted the bike onto a wall and screwed off the tyre cap. Useless.

I handed back the pump, and walked home.

Be Prepared.