For about 20 years now, I have owned a Schwinn Caliente.
I’m not sure how old it is, because I bought it used, but it has been a tremendous bike. It was cheap, it’s easy to operate for a recreational cyclist like me, and it’s durable — at least, it is if others don’t ride it. However, at least once a year somebody borrows it and blows out a tire. Of course, they don’t say anything about it — they just get the bike back to the garage and then slink away, leaving me to discover the problem the next time I want to take a ride.
It was beautiful here on Sunday, with the temperature reaching the 80s. Conditions were perfect for a bike ride. With growing anticipation I rolled the Caliente out of the garage, hopped on the seat . . . and discovered that the rear tire was flat as a pancake. Arrgh! I pumped it up, and it promptly deflated again. My hopes for a pleasant ride on a fine spring day were dashed. The disappointment was such that I felt moved to pen a non-dirty limerick about the experience:
There once was a bike made by Schwinn
I sat on her seat with a grin
But my plans all went splat
‘Cause her tire was flat
And I couldn’t take her out for a spin.
For the record, writing bad poetry can help to ease the pain of a missed biking opportunity.