Brad and I were out for a leisurely bike ride last weekend when he got a flat tire. It was probably flat for the whole 15 blocks that we rode, but who's really keeping an eye out for that sort of thing?
An hour later, we stumbled upon the only bike repair guy in the city who wanted us dead.
"YOUR TIRES SHOULD BE AT 65 PSI. ARE ALL OF YOUR TIRES AT 65 PSI?!?"
"...."
"IF YOUR TIRES ARE NOT AT FULL EFFICIENCY, YOU ARE NOT AT FULL EFFICIENCY."
"...."
"BRING YOUR BIKE TIRE INSIDE AND LET ME SEE IT."
I reached for a nearby bicycle wheel and gave it a little squeeze. "Is this what 65 psi feels like?"
"THAT'S NOT A PRESSURE GAUGE!"
"I don't have a pressure gauge. We just have the one flat tire. I think the rest are fine."
"DON'T THINK. KNOW!"
He stormed to my jeep, where I imagine that he squeezed the remaining 3 bike tires and threw a private tantrum surpassed in fervor only by that of my mother the night she discovered my [shameful, disgraceful, deceitful] tattoo.
Our remaining 3 tires were not at Full Efficiency.
We left, heads hanging, as gracefully as we could manage. I'm comforted by the infallible knowledge that there are only a few things in life for which Brad and I really need to be at full efficiency.
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