I just returned from a tour de architecte all across the city. At that extraordinary weather. And with some delicate splinter of glass inside the thick rubber of my solid looking mountain bike tyres. Soon I’ll get grounded with a flat tyre. Oh, great!
So now it’s not only my brakes which are polished down to being non existent.
Since I am quite effective when it comes to putting off errands I need to run, I thought it would be a good cause to finally see my personal bicycle technician to get everything fixed. I managed to use the remaining air of my tyre down to its last breath and reached the shop just fine.
Only to find out that this son of a … is sipping Daiquiries with silly small coloured paper umbrellas, at a poolside somewhere close to the equator. (btw: Weiss eigentlich jemand was »Papierschirmchen« auf Englisch heißt?)
