I Want to Ride My Bicycle

Once upon a time, yesterday was the warmest day of the year.

And after a weekend of SERIOUS couch-potatoage, I finally got the bee in my bonnet to take my roadbike Ruthie out for the season's maiden voyage.
It was a lovely day. Warm but overcast. Birds chirping. Green leaves and blossoms a-plenty.
So I dug around in my storage unit and closets trying to find my bike pump.
No dice.
Who knows where it is. Which is sad. Because it was totally cute and lime green. Not easily misplaceable.
I call Contender Bicycles to see if they were still open. The man answers, "Contender Bic...", and I interrupt him.
"Are you guys still open???"
A pause. "We close at seven."
"What time is it right now?"
A pause. "Seven".
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooo.
So, I get in my car and drive down to Smith's Fred Meyer. They're open. They've got to have a cheap pump to get me through today.
What's more pathetic than DRIVING to a store to buy a tire pump to go for a bicycle ride?
Oh yeah, the rest of this story...
So I'm ho-humming my options at Smith's Fred Meyer. Not looking too promising. Not only do 99% of them only have the standard Schrader nozzle, but they're all pretty much plastic.
I find a pump that has an attachment to convert the Schrader nozzle into my Presta. I see that it has a "Three Year Warranty", so in haste, I purchase.
Returning home, I'm giddy. I'm humming/whistling the melody to Herman's Hermits "I'm in to Something Good". I get the pump all ready to fill'er up and start pumping the back tire.

SNAP.

Within about 4 pumps, this heavy duty, 3-year warrantied's Presta attachment breaks.
In half.
Awesome.



Ug.
So I forcefully hold the nozzle on the valve and continue to pump until the tire is at a somewhat-tolerably-full,-enough-to-get-me-through-a-few-miles level.
Ok, now the front tire.
Jimmy-rig it so it's barely clamped onto the valve with this "heavy-duty" but broken nozzle.

Pump.
Pump.

PPSSSSSSSTTTTT!




?
I'm sorry, WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!?!
Oh cool. I broke the tip off my tire valve. This is awesome.
I slowly slide my back down the wall until my butt hits the floor. I rest my elbows on my knees and give the pump the Stink-Eye.
I mull over my options.
Door number 1, raise the white flag. It was a valiant effort, but wasn't in the cards to ride tonight. Just accept your losses, and get into your jammies. Law & Order is on.
Door number 2, pull yourself together, Woman! This is a BIKE PUMP for crying out loud. Get out an extra inner-tube and get this ordeal under control.
...
Another glare to the pump.
Alright, Pump. I don't like you. You are immediately going back to Smith's Fred Meyer where you came from. Well, you were just sold at Smith's Fred Meyer. I am actually willing to bet that you came from Hell. But if you get me through this, I'll wait till TOMORROW to take you back there. Deal?
Huff-n-puff.
Get the new tube in. Now. Caress the pump nozzle. It is your friend. I didn't lock it on the valve, but just held it in place and pumped and pumped and pumped and pumped until, like the front tire, it was tolerable just to get me through a few miles.

SWEEET! Let's go!
First off, apparently I need to clean up a bit.




Check.
So Ruthie and I are off. I decide to swing by my sister's house and use her nice bike pump just for precaution's sake.
It was a very nice ride. Although my new place's location near the top of Capital Hill isn't very conducive to finishing strong.. :-S But I did it. Felt good. And I'm looking forward to my pump-swap this evening.

Definitely before Seven.


And the collateral damage?