A normalizing commute

After all the flats last week, I'm happy to report that my commute by bike and bus has become fairly routine. One funny story from one of the flats, though.

I have to ride about a mile to my bus stop after work. Given all my flats, I took off early, like twenty minutes early. Good thing I did. After less than a quarter mile, the tire went flaccid. I knew I had to hustle to make the bus, so I hopped off and started walking quickly. I watched the time and gauged the distance. I knew I was on the losing end. Once I got off the main thoroughfare, I started running, with my backpack, pushing my bike. I think I ran about a quarter of a mile this way. Keep in mind, there was a computer and a fat history textbook in my backpack. So this was desperation. I saw the bus sitting at the stop, waiting for its appointed departure moment. When I was about seventy-five yards from the stop, the bus pulled out. I kept running, but this time waving frantically for the bus to stop. Mercifully, the driver stopped. Because of all the wheezing, I didn't appreciate his snide remark until later, but he said, "I hope you can find a seat." There were two other people on the bus.