So, I'm here in Austin spending the week at the office. Austin is a pretty cool town, has to be for the likes of Lance Armstrong and Andy Roddick to take up residence here. It's also hot, real hot, and for the first time, humid, like Baltimore sweat box humid. Even so, the riding is pretty good west of town is West Lake Hills which lives up to its name. Rolling countryside overlooking the lakes of Austin.
I've been keeping a bike down here all summer so I don't get tagged for around $100 bucks each time I come down. This typically means I have to bring a certain amount of gear with me, helmet, cycling cloth, shoes etc... It also means the little things, spare tubes, pump, energy bars. Well, this time I managed to walk out of the house with one of those little things...my pump. Excited to roll out of the office at 5pm and get beck to the good old La Quinta where I stay while in town, I realize as I'm ready to rollout for a ride that I do not have my trusty, seldom used (as in "have I ever used it on a roadride?") pump. So, after a few minutes of debating with my conscience, I decide to head out anyway. Now, as nice as the riding is here, it's for one reason, there nothing around for miles sometimes. Despite that fact, there is still plenty of traffic, so don't get your hopes up. So from the La Quinta I take a quick right then another at the first light to put me on the closet road out of southwest Austin, Southwest Parkway. A 2 to 3 lane "highway" with a decent shoulder, 3-4 feet. Not too bad with cars whizzing by at 70+ mph, except for the trash, mostly glass, shards of metal, the occasional rusty mail or bolt and plenty of blown tire pieces.
As I'm riding along, my conscience is getting tome, playing tricks. Everytime I ride by or over something suspicious, I start thinking I have a flat. Next thing I know I'm just riding along staring at my rear wheel. So I'm about 6 miles fro mthe hotel and just split off from another cyclist who had been shadowing me for several miles when I finally decide that I want to check my rear tire. I get off my bike and immediately knew I was f'ed.
Fortunately I did bring my cell, I usually use that to call for directions home, but in this case it was to call Louis to come pick me up. It worked out for him though, he had a reson to leave work, and he lives right behind the La Quinta so it was kind of on the way. Anyway, Murphy's law bit me in the ass. As many miles as I've put in this year and the one time I consciously go out unprepared I get burned. Lesson learned.