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The Perils of Pauline
Posted by | Posted in Goings On | Posted on April 30, 2007
I had quite the interesting afternoon. It all started when I decided to ride my new bike to work. You know, get some exercise, save the environment from my carbon-belching newer Toyota (joke)... I live about 3.5 miles from my office, and the traffic along the drive is pretty busy. However, we live just a hop and a skip from the New York Canal, which is an irrigation canal with a nice two-track road along it that is closed to motor vehicles. Since we had put Slime in the tires to keep the goatheads (read: world's most deadly sticker-burrs) out of my tires, I figured it was a good plan. Well.
I took off down the canal, but all-too-soon came to a closed section of the road, which forced me to get on one of the main streets. It so happened that this street (Orchard, near the airport) doesn't have much to speak of in the way of a shoulder. I hugged the fog line as close as I could, and tried not to weep with terror as 18-wheel dump trucks whooshed by. As I got to a traffic signal, I thought maybe I might have a flat tire. I got off at the light, pushed on the tire but couldn't feel anything, and hopped back on for the home stretch--the last mile to my office. The going was a little easier there, but I was thoroughly pooped. Isn't that an awful sign of what terrible shape I am in? But really, I haven't ridden a bike with any level of intensity since I was about 12 years old, plus I was trying to go as fast as I could to get to work.
I got to the last 100 yards. I could see the gate leading into my office area. But I realized my rear tire was indeed going flat. Really flat. I had to dismount and push the bike through the gate.
I dragged my wheezing body and beet-red face up the stairs to my office. I flung myself down in my chair, unstrapped my helmet, and dug out the new fish flakes I got to feed my office betta fish, Abe, who has not seemed particularly peppy lately. I peered into the tank, and there he was. Dead as a...well, he was dead as a mackerel. He must have died early in the weekend, as he wasn't even floating. He was just a corpse on the rocks at the bottom. I truly feel terrible about it. The guy at PetCo who was counseling me on fish selection said a betta would be perfect, as they were virtually impossible to kill and could go for days on end without food.
Poor Abe. Rest in peace, my little blue buddy.
Really, it was quite the crappy sequence of events. But once I get my tires fixed, I'll be riding to work again, albeit on another route. And I'm not done killing raising fish--I want to go get a new Abe and try harder this time.





