Home Alone

I just assumed that Team Pink was going to be home on Monday so I didn't bother asking how long the TPS job would last.

Amy and Brian please hurry back. The triathletes are circling and threatening to shave my legs. I can't swing my cross bike at them in defence 'cause its in the shop getting drivetrain replacement surgery.

Speaking of which (since I know have squatters rights to the blog), its time for a tale. For the better part of 15 years I have carried some form of chain tool in my seat bag. I've used it many times at home, once on somebody elses chain on the trail, and as of yesterday after zillions of kilometres of riding I got to use it on the side of the road in Richmond. My drivetrain is well past its expected service life and I've been waiting for something to 'go' on it for a while now. Yesterday, beside the Coca-Cola plant there was a crunch and a ping and then the chain was free from its fate of being wrapped around my chainstay. Luckily, since I've perservered with carrying said wondertool I was back and riding in a few minutes. Ha. Take that. New PB for roadside chain repair. I took the experience as a sign to get the necessary bits replaced so the bike is at the bike hospital awaiting surgery.