Sunday, June 08, 2008
When to the service at the Cathedral this morning and was blessed by a sermon from Archbishop Desmon Tu Tu. The Cathedral was packed to overflowing which is a lot of people as this is one big place. The sermon was a simple one the message of God’s love for the human race, unconditional. Given by him, coming for a background of Apartheid, it was as if it were a new message that issued forth from his love for all people. Then he was installed as a Cannon of Salisbury Cathedral. He told of a person refusing a Cannonicy because of his last name, which was Ball. Then explained that the bishop had to fire Cannon Ball some time later. During the service the choir that was made up of the church’s choir and the high school choir from Cape Town South Africa. It was quite a moving experience. Spent the rest of the day getting ready for tomorrow I ride a new ride with new hills and scenery.
Speaking of hills yesterday, Saturday May 7, I decided to go for a ride that ended up connecting my first trip here to the present along with my interactions with hills. The other day I had written to my friend Mark that there was magic in riding over a hill. My bike was purchased in Amesbury, the next town north of Salisbury, on the first visit here. After purchasing the bike it had to be ridden back to Salisbury. My mind had a picture of me jumping on the bike and riding back as I rode when younger. Well that picture quickly disappeared and you can read about it in the prior post. However, today’s ride was a recreation of that first ride plus more. The more was that is in order to recreate the ride there was a need to get to the starting point Amesbury.
So this morning I rode non-stop to Amesbury via a different route then the one I’d use coming back. Riding through Amesbury I noticed the changes to the town beginning my copy of the original ride. This time my mind did not lie to me, no stopping, no huffing and puffing, just riding from start to finish passing the places where on the original ride I had to stop and catch my breath. Up the hills not in the lowest of low gears on the bike, down the hills, sometimes breathing hard, but no huffing and puffing. Sometimes it takes peddling just fast enough to not fall over, but it gets it done. People still pass me by and that’s O.K. cause that’s not my ride this is my ride. The magic of looking up and seeing the top of the hill is near, knowing you did it on your own and the way you wanted to.
This is magic that gives renewal to the spirit, and the knowledge that you can ride up most of the hills, sometimes you have to walk up, and some times it is OK to just go around them, and sometimes you take the train, if that doesn’t work you just don’t go. It is not failure; it may be just taking the road less traveled, or a road different from the one you said you were going to take, or knowing I gave it a good shot.
After my ride it was time to go to the Salisbury Festival and watch the town folks have a smashing good time. Carpets out, tables up covered with food and wine, relaxing in their chairs. They have little shopping cart things that they wheel it all in on. People dancing and laughing all around me, kids running and playing without fear. The entertainer’s this year were all from Africa so the music had a very different flavor. No matter what was played the town’s people danced. Then I looked over to a group of people walking along in front to the cathedral.
It was Archbishop Desmon Tu Tu not many realized it was him. I placed myself in the path just as he came by and shook his small, warm hand after giving me his blessing he walked on. It was a very moving moment; he touched my heart with his few words. African children hand in hand with Salisbury children roam, danced, and laughed. Ending with a traditional fireworks display over this 750-year-old cathedral; only the stones could talk what tails they could tell.
Friday, May 6, 2008, having been able to purchase one of the last tickets I entered the cathedral for a performance of the Rainbow Choir. There was no way to see the choir from my seat, yet I did not have to see, just to hear was enough. The beautiful voices of the young people from Cape Town blended with the choir from the cathedral, supported by the local orchestra filled the ears, no need for eyes. The beauty of the sound brought tears to my eyes along with peace to my spirit.
This turned out to be a weekend of renewal of inner strength and spirit. As my friend Gary says, “Allow the day to happen in its own way and what gifts can come if you are present to them.” This really rang true as opening my eyes each morning knowing something was going to happen all I had to do is be present, aware of the here and now. Such blessing would come my way totally given by free for the witnessing.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Writing in a Library in Gillingham not on my list of places to go. Then why am I here you ask? Well on Monday June 9, 2008 after vacating the campground at 9am down the road less traveled rode I. Back roads are the best bet to getting where you want to go on bike. However, after about a ten minutes the riding was stopped by a 12% grade going up a hill about 190 ft. That’s a pretty steep grade let me tell you. Yet there were more to come up and up as if I were going to peddle up into the sky. I was a beautiful day with the tempters finally getting about 80 degrees.
Having ridden up through a beautiful forest breaking out from the trees with a view that seemed like you could see all of England. There below me were villages, towns, rivers, fields, greens, reds, violets, blues, and the sweet smell of fresh cut grass. From this height it look like an HO railroad diorama. How it must have looked when you could see the white puffs of a steam engine working its way through the glen. Yet there was more up to go, much more at time doubling back on myself to get to the top.
Around 3 pm and 31 miles later I was about a three-quarters of the way through my ride. Ridding into Mere another cyclist pulls up along side me to ask were I’m headed. After telling him he informs me that he just got back from riding from Lands End to Johnogoats a trip of 980 miles. He tells me it took him 15 days going about 10 miles an hour, which he was quite happy with, covering about 40 miles a day. He rides with me for awhile telling me that he understands the difficulty of riding hills as he was riding a bike much like mine with as much stuff on it.
We ride together into Mere where he points me the direction to ride to Wincanton. As he is about to ride off he tells that that Gillingham has a great bike shop. I thank him thinking “I’m not going anywhere near Gillingham.” About five minuets after we part company my ears here two sounds I wish did not happen. Pop Psssssssssh, another flat, no, not a just a flat a blowout. No problem, unload the bike off come the wheel I’ll just fix this sucker, and if it doesn’t hold I’ve got another tube with the right stem. Looking down I see green stuff that is slime on the wheel and chain “this can’t be good.”
Not only do I have a flat the tire has a crack in it about half an inch long. I look around to see if Paul is hiding somewhere laughing, or is he the Witch Doctor for the bike store. I patch the tube, put a patch in the tire, oh by the way there are strips of plastic in my tires that are suppose to prevent this kind of thing. Put it all back together whip out my $40 tire inflator that is a combination of Co2 and hand pump. One Co2 cartridge in the tire is about half full. No problem I have another cartridge, put it in, nothing it’s empty, not problem I’ll just pump it up. Pump is not working, nothing is happening; I thought I had another Co2 cartridge around, nope. Try to ride, way too much weight now a choice.
Attempt to walk to Wincanton, don’t know if there is a bike shop there, but there is a campground, or walk to Gillingham, which according to the may has no campground, both are at least an hour or hour and a half walk away; Gillingham here I come. It’s over 80 the sun is beating down I pass an older fellow who says “Beautiful day it’s it?” “Yep, sure is.” I answer. However, the reason I choose Gillingham is not because is has a “wonderful bike shop,” but because it has a railroad station. “I’m done with this, I’ll get on the train back to Salisbury, get a night at the YHA, pack up my stuff, lock the bike a the train station and go home” are my thoughts
Upon reaching Gillingham there is a sign pointing to a campground where there is none on the map. Arriving at the campground has been a five-mile walk mostly, thankfully, flat. At the entrance to the campground is a sign announcing this is Osho Leela. Attempting to find the office by asking someone who is camping there. “The office in the main house you’ll have to sort it out with them” she says. Approaching the main house there is a man walking who asks, “Are you lost?” “No looking to check in.” “Through the door, we’re eating dinner now so you have to look around” as if I had the nerve to come at this time. Both these encounters are with people who are not very friendly.
Entering the large main house the reception desk is empty. Walking on there is a large dinning room, a lady sitting at one of the tables smiles asks if she can help. “I would like to check in to the campground.” She tells me to go to the Kitchen where they can help. Here is another smiling face asking if they can help. Both these people have has smiles on their face’s, yet the look that went with it seemed to say I was someplace I did not belong. The gentleman who finally helped me was somewhat more friendly as me “sorted things out.” Seeing food, kitchen, and dinning room I’m wondering if they sell meals here? I ask him if this is also a hotel/hostel? “No we are a community, a family here,” he states. I smile. Now I look around to see if Gary is hiding somewhere. I hear him say “You never know what the universe has in store for you. Tomorrow I think I’ll see what this community/family is all about, who knows maybe I’ll join.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Back in Salisbury library charging my phone and writing. Both the library here and in Gillingham have made a table and electrical hookup available to me while I write.
Tuesday, May 10, 2008: After purchasing a tire and putting the bike back together I head back into town to get my work checked out. Oh you may want to know how air got in my tire? Well there, hiding, in the bottom of my front pouch was the Co2 cartridge I was unable to fine yesterday. The bike shop tells me all is well so I head to the library, which has an area museum, attached to write. Upon returning to the campground I’ve decided to spend another night so, entering the Main house while looking at all the flyers about upcoming events a woman comes in who introduces herself as Kailash who want to know if I need help? “I would like to pay for one more day. I can’t see the posters very well do you have one that I can read?” She takes my money and finds a brochure for me to take away.
The Osho Leela Community reports it self to be friendly, open and loving where everyone is welcome. They have something called a Humaniveristy training and the Nine Month Personal Growth Course. There are a few training weekend coming up one of which is how to shake yourself. In addition they would like people to join their community and offer a weeklong program of introduction. It cost’s 70 pounds a week for food and a room. Along with that you get to work 6 hours a day part of which is doing dishes once a day, there is a day off. There are morning meditations that are advertised to be “mini versions of the Humaniversity Aum.” There is a part time, 3 hour a day, experience available for only 23 pounds a week. Great reading material while I eat my dinner.
Wednesday, May 11, 2008: Thinking to my self what the hell a new experience, meet new people, and it would cost me less the camping and buying food for a week. Returning to the Main house I ask to talk to someone about the weeklong experience. It is Kailash who is the Manage of these experiences. She gets me a print out of what to expect. She seems very guarded as we talk about my taking part in a week. She tells me it is not possible to join on Wednesday. “That was clear in the brochure,” I state. “What about tomorrow?” To which I get a non-answer “It is possible, but you can’t join today.”
OK got it no joining to day. “I’m going to Castle Cary to see a church today, if I stayed there over night and come back tomorrow can I join?” The look is that’s more information then I need. “You could call tomorrow to see.” “I’m only here a short time I’m not wanting to ride all the way back if I can’t get in.” A shrug of the shoulders “You can’t join today, do you want to stay another night an see about tomorrow.” “Thank you very much I’ll ride to Castle Cary and call you tomorrow.” During this conversation there is very little eye contact, along with body language that seems to indicate mistrust about why I’d want to do this, but not asked.
Leaving Osho Leela the sky is turning dark, the sun is blocked by large steel gray clouds from horizon to horizon. “Maybe I should stay one more night” are my thoughts riding down the drive. Riding along a group of riders come up along side me the leader asking how I’m doing. “Doing great since I just started out” is my answer. He tells me they are riding from Istanbul to Ireland. “Your almost there” I quip. “Your American” he asks? “Yep” I say. He nods his head to the back of the group “couple of American back there. Good luck.” Off he rides. Five other pass me the last being the two Americans. We don’t get a chance to chat. There is not a pannier or bag on them, no tent, not nothing; strange. They grow small as they pull away from me. The sun is now out along with the hills, some I walk, some I ride. Paul and I were laughing yesterday about using a low gear to get up a hill going slower then the people walking.
First will be Wincanton and the campground that was supposed to serve me last night. It takes about an hour to get to the turnoff where the campground should be. Riding down the road I notice the bike steering is getting sluggish. Looking down at a tire that is half deflated “You got to be kidding.” Stopping and using the last of my Co2 to fill the tire back up it is time for a redirection. Having bypassed Wincanton in search of the campground I use back roads that head me back to the town. Upon arriving my question about a bike shop is answered with a “no.”
The hardware store is closed from 12 pm to 2 pm, once it does open there is no hand pump or C02 cartages to be had, maybe a garage could help. The garage person fills my tire with air, we talk a bit, he does not know of a campground around here. Off to Castle Cary “I’ll make a decision on what to do there.” I’ve been to Castle Cary twice before and know there is no bike shop there, but there is a train station that I have used on both previous visits, also a campground close by that I have stayed at. Arriving at Castle Cary the front tire is again sluggish meaning my quest for the church is over time to head to the train station and back to Salisbury.
My tent was pelted all night with rain and wind. In the morning the sun was semi-out giving me time to fix my flats pumping the up with the new hand pump purchased last evening after arriving. The fellow camping across from me for some reason asks how many far I’ve ridden. “I think a little over 600 miles” is my answer. Then he asks how many flats I’ve had. “Best as I can figure out about 10.” He then tells me he has ridden 4000 miles over the years on his bike and has had 6 flats. I smile.
When to the service at the Cathedral this morning and was blessed by a sermon from Archbishop Desmon Tu Tu. The Cathedral was packed to overflowing which is a lot of people as this is one big place. The sermon was a simple one the message of God’s love for the human race, unconditional. Given by him, coming for a background of Apartheid, it was as if it were a new message that issued forth from his love for all people. Then he was installed as a Cannon of Salisbury Cathedral. He told of a person refusing a Cannonicy because of his last name, which was Ball. Then explained that the bishop had to fire Cannon Ball some time later. During the service the choir that was made up of the church’s choir and the high school choir from Cape Town South Africa. It was quite a moving experience. Spent the rest of the day getting ready for tomorrow I ride a new ride with new hills and scenery.
Speaking of hills yesterday, Saturday May 7, I decided to go for a ride that ended up connecting my first trip here to the present along with my interactions with hills. The other day I had written to my friend Mark that there was magic in riding over a hill. My bike was purchased in Amesbury, the next town north of Salisbury, on the first visit here. After purchasing the bike it had to be ridden back to Salisbury. My mind had a picture of me jumping on the bike and riding back as I rode when younger. Well that picture quickly disappeared and you can read about it in the prior post. However, today’s ride was a recreation of that first ride plus more. The more was that is in order to recreate the ride there was a need to get to the starting point Amesbury.
So this morning I rode non-stop to Amesbury via a different route then the one I’d use coming back. Riding through Amesbury I noticed the changes to the town beginning my copy of the original ride. This time my mind did not lie to me, no stopping, no huffing and puffing, just riding from start to finish passing the places where on the original ride I had to stop and catch my breath. Up the hills not in the lowest of low gears on the bike, down the hills, sometimes breathing hard, but no huffing and puffing. Sometimes it takes peddling just fast enough to not fall over, but it gets it done. People still pass me by and that’s O.K. cause that’s not my ride this is my ride. The magic of looking up and seeing the top of the hill is near, knowing you did it on your own and the way you wanted to.
This is magic that gives renewal to the spirit, and the knowledge that you can ride up most of the hills, sometimes you have to walk up, and some times it is OK to just go around them, and sometimes you take the train, if that doesn’t work you just don’t go. It is not failure; it may be just taking the road less traveled, or a road different from the one you said you were going to take, or knowing I gave it a good shot.
After my ride it was time to go to the Salisbury Festival and watch the town folks have a smashing good time. Carpets out, tables up covered with food and wine, relaxing in their chairs. They have little shopping cart things that they wheel it all in on. People dancing and laughing all around me, kids running and playing without fear. The entertainer’s this year were all from Africa so the music had a very different flavor. No matter what was played the town’s people danced. Then I looked over to a group of people walking along in front to the cathedral.
It was Archbishop Desmon Tu Tu not many realized it was him. I placed myself in the path just as he came by and shook his small, warm hand after giving me his blessing he walked on. It was a very moving moment; he touched my heart with his few words. African children hand in hand with Salisbury children roam, danced, and laughed. Ending with a traditional fireworks display over this 750-year-old cathedral; only the stones could talk what tails they could tell.
Friday, May 6, 2008, having been able to purchase one of the last tickets I entered the cathedral for a performance of the Rainbow Choir. There was no way to see the choir from my seat, yet I did not have to see, just to hear was enough. The beautiful voices of the young people from Cape Town blended with the choir from the cathedral, supported by the local orchestra filled the ears, no need for eyes. The beauty of the sound brought tears to my eyes along with peace to my spirit.
This turned out to be a weekend of renewal of inner strength and spirit. As my friend Gary says, “Allow the day to happen in its own way and what gifts can come if you are present to them.” This really rang true as opening my eyes each morning knowing something was going to happen all I had to do is be present, aware of the here and now. Such blessing would come my way totally given by free for the witnessing.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Writing in a Library in Gillingham not on my list of places to go. Then why am I here you ask? Well on Monday June 9, 2008 after vacating the campground at 9am down the road less traveled rode I. Back roads are the best bet to getting where you want to go on bike. However, after about a ten minutes the riding was stopped by a 12% grade going up a hill about 190 ft. That’s a pretty steep grade let me tell you. Yet there were more to come up and up as if I were going to peddle up into the sky. I was a beautiful day with the tempters finally getting about 80 degrees.
Having ridden up through a beautiful forest breaking out from the trees with a view that seemed like you could see all of England. There below me were villages, towns, rivers, fields, greens, reds, violets, blues, and the sweet smell of fresh cut grass. From this height it look like an HO railroad diorama. How it must have looked when you could see the white puffs of a steam engine working its way through the glen. Yet there was more up to go, much more at time doubling back on myself to get to the top.
Around 3 pm and 31 miles later I was about a three-quarters of the way through my ride. Ridding into Mere another cyclist pulls up along side me to ask were I’m headed. After telling him he informs me that he just got back from riding from Lands End to Johnogoats a trip of 980 miles. He tells me it took him 15 days going about 10 miles an hour, which he was quite happy with, covering about 40 miles a day. He rides with me for awhile telling me that he understands the difficulty of riding hills as he was riding a bike much like mine with as much stuff on it.
We ride together into Mere where he points me the direction to ride to Wincanton. As he is about to ride off he tells that that Gillingham has a great bike shop. I thank him thinking “I’m not going anywhere near Gillingham.” About five minuets after we part company my ears here two sounds I wish did not happen. Pop Psssssssssh, another flat, no, not a just a flat a blowout. No problem, unload the bike off come the wheel I’ll just fix this sucker, and if it doesn’t hold I’ve got another tube with the right stem. Looking down I see green stuff that is slime on the wheel and chain “this can’t be good.”
Not only do I have a flat the tire has a crack in it about half an inch long. I look around to see if Paul is hiding somewhere laughing, or is he the Witch Doctor for the bike store. I patch the tube, put a patch in the tire, oh by the way there are strips of plastic in my tires that are suppose to prevent this kind of thing. Put it all back together whip out my $40 tire inflator that is a combination of Co2 and hand pump. One Co2 cartridge in the tire is about half full. No problem I have another cartridge, put it in, nothing it’s empty, not problem I’ll just pump it up. Pump is not working, nothing is happening; I thought I had another Co2 cartridge around, nope. Try to ride, way too much weight now a choice.
Attempt to walk to Wincanton, don’t know if there is a bike shop there, but there is a campground, or walk to Gillingham, which according to the may has no campground, both are at least an hour or hour and a half walk away; Gillingham here I come. It’s over 80 the sun is beating down I pass an older fellow who says “Beautiful day it’s it?” “Yep, sure is.” I answer. However, the reason I choose Gillingham is not because is has a “wonderful bike shop,” but because it has a railroad station. “I’m done with this, I’ll get on the train back to Salisbury, get a night at the YHA, pack up my stuff, lock the bike a the train station and go home” are my thoughts
Upon reaching Gillingham there is a sign pointing to a campground where there is none on the map. Arriving at the campground has been a five-mile walk mostly, thankfully, flat. At the entrance to the campground is a sign announcing this is Osho Leela. Attempting to find the office by asking someone who is camping there. “The office in the main house you’ll have to sort it out with them” she says. Approaching the main house there is a man walking who asks, “Are you lost?” “No looking to check in.” “Through the door, we’re eating dinner now so you have to look around” as if I had the nerve to come at this time. Both these encounters are with people who are not very friendly.
Entering the large main house the reception desk is empty. Walking on there is a large dinning room, a lady sitting at one of the tables smiles asks if she can help. “I would like to check in to the campground.” She tells me to go to the Kitchen where they can help. Here is another smiling face asking if they can help. Both these people have has smiles on their face’s, yet the look that went with it seemed to say I was someplace I did not belong. The gentleman who finally helped me was somewhat more friendly as me “sorted things out.” Seeing food, kitchen, and dinning room I’m wondering if they sell meals here? I ask him if this is also a hotel/hostel? “No we are a community, a family here,” he states. I smile. Now I look around to see if Gary is hiding somewhere. I hear him say “You never know what the universe has in store for you. Tomorrow I think I’ll see what this community/family is all about, who knows maybe I’ll join.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Back in Salisbury library charging my phone and writing. Both the library here and in Gillingham have made a table and electrical hookup available to me while I write.
Tuesday, May 10, 2008: After purchasing a tire and putting the bike back together I head back into town to get my work checked out. Oh you may want to know how air got in my tire? Well there, hiding, in the bottom of my front pouch was the Co2 cartridge I was unable to fine yesterday. The bike shop tells me all is well so I head to the library, which has an area museum, attached to write. Upon returning to the campground I’ve decided to spend another night so, entering the Main house while looking at all the flyers about upcoming events a woman comes in who introduces herself as Kailash who want to know if I need help? “I would like to pay for one more day. I can’t see the posters very well do you have one that I can read?” She takes my money and finds a brochure for me to take away.
The Osho Leela Community reports it self to be friendly, open and loving where everyone is welcome. They have something called a Humaniveristy training and the Nine Month Personal Growth Course. There are a few training weekend coming up one of which is how to shake yourself. In addition they would like people to join their community and offer a weeklong program of introduction. It cost’s 70 pounds a week for food and a room. Along with that you get to work 6 hours a day part of which is doing dishes once a day, there is a day off. There are morning meditations that are advertised to be “mini versions of the Humaniversity Aum.” There is a part time, 3 hour a day, experience available for only 23 pounds a week. Great reading material while I eat my dinner.
Wednesday, May 11, 2008: Thinking to my self what the hell a new experience, meet new people, and it would cost me less the camping and buying food for a week. Returning to the Main house I ask to talk to someone about the weeklong experience. It is Kailash who is the Manage of these experiences. She gets me a print out of what to expect. She seems very guarded as we talk about my taking part in a week. She tells me it is not possible to join on Wednesday. “That was clear in the brochure,” I state. “What about tomorrow?” To which I get a non-answer “It is possible, but you can’t join today.”
OK got it no joining to day. “I’m going to Castle Cary to see a church today, if I stayed there over night and come back tomorrow can I join?” The look is that’s more information then I need. “You could call tomorrow to see.” “I’m only here a short time I’m not wanting to ride all the way back if I can’t get in.” A shrug of the shoulders “You can’t join today, do you want to stay another night an see about tomorrow.” “Thank you very much I’ll ride to Castle Cary and call you tomorrow.” During this conversation there is very little eye contact, along with body language that seems to indicate mistrust about why I’d want to do this, but not asked.
Leaving Osho Leela the sky is turning dark, the sun is blocked by large steel gray clouds from horizon to horizon. “Maybe I should stay one more night” are my thoughts riding down the drive. Riding along a group of riders come up along side me the leader asking how I’m doing. “Doing great since I just started out” is my answer. He tells me they are riding from Istanbul to Ireland. “Your almost there” I quip. “Your American” he asks? “Yep” I say. He nods his head to the back of the group “couple of American back there. Good luck.” Off he rides. Five other pass me the last being the two Americans. We don’t get a chance to chat. There is not a pannier or bag on them, no tent, not nothing; strange. They grow small as they pull away from me. The sun is now out along with the hills, some I walk, some I ride. Paul and I were laughing yesterday about using a low gear to get up a hill going slower then the people walking.
First will be Wincanton and the campground that was supposed to serve me last night. It takes about an hour to get to the turnoff where the campground should be. Riding down the road I notice the bike steering is getting sluggish. Looking down at a tire that is half deflated “You got to be kidding.” Stopping and using the last of my Co2 to fill the tire back up it is time for a redirection. Having bypassed Wincanton in search of the campground I use back roads that head me back to the town. Upon arriving my question about a bike shop is answered with a “no.”
The hardware store is closed from 12 pm to 2 pm, once it does open there is no hand pump or C02 cartages to be had, maybe a garage could help. The garage person fills my tire with air, we talk a bit, he does not know of a campground around here. Off to Castle Cary “I’ll make a decision on what to do there.” I’ve been to Castle Cary twice before and know there is no bike shop there, but there is a train station that I have used on both previous visits, also a campground close by that I have stayed at. Arriving at Castle Cary the front tire is again sluggish meaning my quest for the church is over time to head to the train station and back to Salisbury.
My tent was pelted all night with rain and wind. In the morning the sun was semi-out giving me time to fix my flats pumping the up with the new hand pump purchased last evening after arriving. The fellow camping across from me for some reason asks how many far I’ve ridden. “I think a little over 600 miles” is my answer. Then he asks how many flats I’ve had. “Best as I can figure out about 10.” He then tells me he has ridden 4000 miles over the years on his bike and has had 6 flats. I smile.
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