I think this is number three on the Schwinn
Hey, guess what? Flat tire!
While galavanting down Mt. Vernon Highway yesterday, I noticed that I had a flat. I wasn’t in any hurry, so, rather than simply replacing the tube, I took the time to find the problem and patch it. I had to take everything apart to find the cause anyhow (I had just had the wheel trued, so I was afraid that a spoke may have pierced the rim strip), and patching only takes a few minutes, so what the hell. The leak was a little snakebite pinch, but, in retrospect, this was most likely a side-effect of the true problem. After patching the tube, getting everything back onto the rim and wearing out my arm pumping up the tire with my tiny little hand pump, the tire’s pressure went suddenly from about 80psi to no psi. It turns out that the real issue was the valve tearing away from the tube. I didn’t notice it since it only opened up when the tube had pressure inside, and pumping it back up most of the way did it in. At least I had a spare handy.
This is the second time I’ve holes open up on the valve while riding the new bike, so I began looking at the common factor in my woes besides myself: those Performance store brand inner tubes. Maybe they really aren’t so great. For my current spare I paid twice as much as normal to get one at REI, and I’m hoping that it won’t suck so freaking much.
When not changing tires, I participated in my community and spent some time at the Sandy Springs festival, which was really quite ridiculous. This year’s festival was the 21st, so it’s not a celebration of being a city as much as an attempt to establish a character for a region between regions that actually matter. Local businesses set up booths to promote wares ranging from fancy dog collars to overpriced fruit juice, starving artists peddled metal sculptures of fish and carvings in the shape of bulldogs, churches and political candidates all promoted their viewpoint, and nearly everyone, including the city of Sandy Springs itself, undermined those suckers trying to sell water in the food court area by giving away bottles of it for free. I ended up buying a copy of a history of Sandy Springs’ creation, and the local unlicensed radio station gave me a pencil. Should I need to write something while near an AM radio, I’ll remember which frequency I should tune to.
I didn’t end up staying very long. Short of buying more crap, there wasn’t a whole lot to do. There were some bands playing, and I did show up in time to hear Meadow in the Glen play some Irish folk tunes, but they weren’t really very good. The event gave me a good opportunity to take some pictures of a Sandy Springs cop car without trying not to look suspicious while skulking around the station, but in all it seemed like a waste of time. This new city really needs to learn how to throw a party.