I went out for a ride after work last night. I did my usual pre-flight checklist and my front tire was quite soft. I had gone on a long ride on Saturday and the tire pressure was fine that day.
I looked over the tire and everything seemed fine. I inflated the pressure back up to 120 psi and waited for several minutes. No loss of pressure and I could not hear any leaks. I decided to take the bike out anyway. This is what happens when you become addicted to cycling. The tire must be okay because I want to ride.
Our home is about 300 meters up the hill from the side of the main road. I headed down with the bike and checked the tire again before I started my ride. Pressure seemed fine.
10 kilometers into the ride and there was trouble with the front wheel. Rapid loss of pressure and a lot of front-end wobble.
Pull off to the side of the road. Grabbed my bicycle pump and began inflating the tire. Perhaps I could get enough pressure in the tire to head back home.
As I started to work on the tire, a man in a large, dark van pulled up.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I was fine. Soaking wet from the sweat mind you. A little annoyed by this, the fifth flat tire of the season. But otherwise feeling pretty good.
“Just a flat tire.” I replied.
“Do you need a lift?”
For some reason, random thoughts flashed in my brain. The robot from Lost In Space yelling “Danger, Wil Robinson! Danger!”, C-3PO: “The ship has been destroyed!” and from the Pirates of the Caribbean: “Dead men tell no tales.”
“Would you mind?” I asked.
I only know the man’s first name: John. And I know that he works for the OPP. I also know a bit more about his character. A man dedicated to serving others. He drove me and my bike 10 kilometers to my home. An act of kindness.
Thank you, John.