Bicycles

It is the cycling season. I cycle to work when I can – weather depending. Two or three times a week.

I got on my bike last Friday and found out that I had a flat tyre.

Bugger.

So on Sunday, I stripped the tyre off the wheel, fixed the inner tube, and pumped it up to make sure that I had actually fixed it.

Yesterday morning, all prepared to cycle in, I went to put the wheel back on the bike, and the brakes locked: the wheel wouldn’t spin.

I had to get changed out of my tee shirt, put on a suit, and walk to get the bus. Nice walk, though.

(This morning, it took maybe thirty seconds to get the wheel right. No idea why I couldn’t do it yesterday.)

Bicycles

It is the cycling season. I cycle to work when I can – weather depending. Two or three times a week.

I got on my bike last Friday and found out that I had a flat tyre.

Bugger.

So on Sunday, I stripped the tyre off the wheel, fixed the inner tube, and pumped it up to make sure that I had actually fixed it.

Yesterday morning, all prepared to cycle in, I went to put the wheel back on the bike, and the brakes locked: the wheel wouldn’t spin.

I had to get changed out of my tee shirt, put on a suit, and walk to get the bus. Nice walk, though.

(This morning, it took maybe thirty seconds to get the wheel right. No idea why I couldn’t do it yesterday.)

Buses

Yesterday, as I walked to the bus stop, a bus was coming along the road. I ran to catch it.

There are two buses that I can get to work. For the technically minded, they are the X12 and the X48. The X48 is the magic bus: it has few stops, and cruises through the traffic. The X12 has a lot more stops.

They are different colours, these buses. The X48 is a green striped design, the X12 a standard red and white LRT bus.

Thing is, where I hit the main road, there is a stop for the X12. A little further on, maybe 250 metres, there is a stop where both stop.

So as I ran across the road, seeing the bus approaching, I glanced as I started to run. It was red and white – X12 – so it would stop.

I beat it to the stop – just – and it stopped. I looked at the sign and it said X48. The doors opened, and I stepped on – a bit surprised, since this bus wasn’t meant to stop.

“Pound, please.”*

“I don’t stop here,” said the driver, “I only stopped to tell you I don’t stop here.”

“But you have stopped here. I thought you were the X12.”

“You can’t come on. I don’t stop here.”

“But you did stop here. And I am on. So can I just pay my fare?”

“Where are you going?”

“Does it matter? It is all one pound.”

“But where are you going?”

(I look down the bus to see my glaring colleagues, wondering why they have stopped here, and why I am in deep discussion with the driver.)

She let me on. I paid my fare. But for fuck’s sake!


* Every journey costs one pound. It is a flat fare.

Buses

Yesterday, as I walked to the bus stop, a bus was coming along the road. I ran to catch it.

There are two buses that I can get to work. For the technically minded, they are the X12 and the X48. The X48 is the magic bus: it has few stops, and cruises through the traffic. The X12 has a lot more stops.

They are different colours, these buses. The X48 is a green striped design, the X12 a standard red and white LRT bus.

Thing is, where I hit the main road, there is a stop for the X12. A little further on, maybe 250 metres, there is a stop where both stop.

So as I ran across the road, seeing the bus approaching, I glanced as I started to run. It was red and white – X12 – so it would stop.

I beat it to the stop – just – and it stopped. I looked at the sign and it said X48. The doors opened, and I stepped on – a bit surprised, since this bus wasn’t meant to stop.

“Pound, please.”*

“I don’t stop here,” said the driver, “I only stopped to tell you I don’t stop here.”

“But you have stopped here. I thought you were the X12.”

“You can’t come on. I don’t stop here.”

“But you did stop here. And I am on. So can I just pay my fare?”

“Where are you going?”

“Does it matter? It is all one pound.”

“But where are you going?”

(I look down the bus to see my glaring colleagues, wondering why they have stopped here, and why I am in deep discussion with the driver.)

She let me on. I paid my fare. But for fuck’s sake!


* Every journey costs one pound. It is a flat fare.