Photo-story - Where my bike’s been

[StreetCowboy]

I don’t know how to measure “agley” but I would say “scance agley” would be the right term for whence we went this afternoon.

Our out-ride registered as fractionally more than 20 km at fractionally less than 20 kph, and ended at a new pub - “The Corksman” in Bukit Bintang, as recommended yesterday by Peter B, who appeared - as if by magic -during our first pint. Three pints saw us rescued from horrendous prices by a resolve to cycle home half-sober - “home” obviously being a euphemism for cheaper local pubs, and surprisingly, the way home was slightly over 20 km and then over 20 kph.

As we were sat in the Corksman, I asked “do ye have lights?”

”Its one o clock in the afternoon”

”Aye, ye say that now, but your answer might change after a couple of sets”

”We can get the train home”

”I hope you’re not proposing that we cycle 400 metres invisible to the station…” At 40 ringgit a pint, we were lucky we did not develop that plan any further.

I leave you with this picture from the start of the ride.

[StreetCowboy]

On Vesak Day I met up with an old acquaintance to discuss opportunities, and while I was sat in the shade refreshing my weary brow, my bike was sat outside baking its tyres in the blazing heat of the scorching sun.

The back tyre had split and blown out, and as I was fixing it, I was glad I’d only had the one set of Tiger.

The tyre appeared to have split violently, allowing the tube within to burst.  I had a spare tube, but I was worried about the tyre. So I folded a plastic one-ringgit note inside the tyre, and folded another and stuffed it into the split between the rubber and the canvas carcass of the tyre.

This was on the shopping bike, which still has its original slick bulbous 45 mm tyres, but the rear has worn quite thin - hence the split.  I was wearying with my short-stroke wide-bodied mountain bike pump, but in any case, I probably didn’t want to be stressing the tyre up to its rated 80 psi in that condition.

What with the heat of the afternoon and the effort of the pumping, I was grateful it was only a short eleven km home, and I thought “I’ll be almost passing Bar Roca, and no journey is so short…”, but grateful for having only had one set, common sense prevailed, and the conclusion of my route-finding saw me delaying a further stop until I was within walking distance from home.  One thing led to another, but by that time the sun was substantially lower in the sky, and the tyre saw no further stress, and took me safely to and from the supermarket the following day.  The bike is now up in the apartment pending tyre replacement, and I rode my road bike into the office today.

The photo below shows the damaged tyre waiting replacement, after 11km home and 6 km to the supermarket and back.  There’s no sign of the note that was stuffed between the rubber and the carcass.