The Bike

The bane of my existence. The mangy whore. The disease ridden ingrate. I mean my bike, of course.

My bike has had three punctures so far. All of them have been in the rear tire. The first time, the tire was replaced with a new one, the second time it was patched, and after the third puncture it's been sitting outside the dorms with it's lovely puncture wound since mid March.

So today I walked the 5 km down to the bike shop in Claremont to get my bike's rear tired replaced (the third repair). Fixed fine, works fine, no leaks, and I ride it away from the shop.

I ride ten minutes and suddenly I hear kuh-lunk, kuh-lunk, kuh-lunk. Oh, fuck. I walk it back to the sop and get there ten minutes before it closes. The fourth puncture, rear tire again.

It's back to the bike shop again...