Jon was over, my pal and I was too busy wrestling his gear cable out of his ergo shifter to remember the auction I had ending at roughly 8 oclock. After a quick panic, some frantic typing and with 50 seconds remaining I tapped my figure in and bid. Or so I thought, I was not logged in. So, that beautiful set of handbuilt lightweight tubular racing wheels that were to be mine, went to someone else, for considerably less than I would have offered. A carefully selected bunch of swear words later and some european style hand gesturing I calmed down and forgot about it, that was until the following morning…
Out of bed and ready for work I peep out of my window and the weather was OK for my daily commute so I thought I’d take my new, mid 80s time trial bike out, the exact bike that the previous evening’s misbid was for. Yes, it has wheels on it already but they have really seen better days, the rear tub has a bulge at the valve so I feel like I am riding on an egg and the front, well let’s just say it’s a bit crusty. You can see where this is going… Exactly halfway to my destination and it’s raining, not too bad, my jacket will take care of that. Next though, the sound of rotating air exiting a tyre made it’s way up to my ears. Bo**ocks, I havn’t had a flat in so long, I suppose it had to come sooner or later though right? I just wish it didn’t come today! What followed was an hour’s walk to work in the rain wearing carbon soled shoes with cleats attached. Awful.
I figure me missing that bid last night and my puncture this morning is the gods telling me something and I’m listening. Tubular tyres do have a romance that wired tyres do not, they mostly work better in practice and certainly look better but on my walk home tonight, bike being pushed with my right hand I shall care not of any of these things.
All hail the clincher.