Then I have a days rest on the Saturday ready for the club ride on Sunday morning,
I'm always amazed how much one day's rest can help, even when you were trashed the day before.
Just went for a 30K spin which turned into an epic:
1) Flat rear tyre, 9K out. Bad spot for a flat, mid-day sun and traffic whizzing by. Rode the rim 100 metres to a shaded area to fix it.
2) Changed the tube and inflated in a tearing hurry. Broke the presta stem. Tube now useless.
3) Took deep breath, found the puncture in the original tube (a snake bite) and went for the patch cement. Cement tube is full - of air and dried cement. I've got 6 patches and nothing to stick them with.
4) Hang on though, I've got one of those no-cement patches dating back to the time when I still believed they worked. I apply, put the tyre back on and pump, a bit more carefully this time.
5) Tyre goes up and deflates again. Pull it all apart. There's another hole caused by a staple through the tyre. Probably the original puncture. The snake-bite came from riding the rim. How many times do I have to learn that lesson? Now, as well as no cement, I've got no no-cement patches. I'm wearing the same look I saw on Gordon Milne's face when he trotted into the Kop net to pick out the ball after Swansea's second goal, 1964 6th round FA Cup: this can't be happening.
6) Apply the piece of duct tape I carry as an emergency stopper. Does nothing. Not to put too fine a point on it, I'm fucked and too far from home to walk in fancy cycling shoes.
7) Hitch a ride into the next town where I know there's a bike shop. It went out of business last Friday.
And so on and so on. When I finally got home four hours later, covered in sweat and chain oil, found my neighbour had stuck a back-hoe through the water main and the whole street had no water. It was too early to start drinking whisky.