We have a history, Chief. But have you forgotten our friendship? Seattle! Surely you have not forgotten how you once smiled upon me. Just this last summer we became such friends, don't you recall? I was locked out of Peter's house with nothing but 57 cents in my pockets and I peddled his bike all along your western shores. I saw your glistening towers jutting out of your deep-blue, softly lapping waters. I befriended your seals. I drank your water from some guy's hose and bought 54 cents-worth of carrots to not starve. Ok maybe it's all been bad, bro, but this is really getting ridiculous. I knew our friendship had run into a rocky patch, but what the eff, bro? You may be wise, old man but i'll get the better of you yet...
There are only a few people who will know what I'm on about right now, but I'll let the rest of you in on a secret: Seattle hates me. Don't get me wrong, this is a one way street - I love seattle, but he hates me. I loved him so much that I spent one of an intended 6 month trip in
his fine city. I was sort of stuck for part of that time and it was more comfortable than trying to do the organizing and planning with somewhere warm to crash. So when I made this, my second attempt, I of course had to put up with the running jokes like "how long you gonna stay in Seattle this time?" or "You think you'll make it to Portland?" I had no problem brushing them off because I knew that as long as I made it out of the rain and the northwest, I would be gone.
I got in late due to a be-shambled departure from Vancouver, so I decided to stay two nights to catch up with the Seattle crew again and whatnot. Pete and Matt had been up in van the night before but I had to put in some quality time with Danus and Gorshi. Plus I was thinking of getting some stuff at Renton motorsports that I hadn't gotten around to getting in Van, namely spare tubes, a spark plug, oil filter, brake pads and the other things I would want to pack with me so I could organize how I was going to haul all of it. Everyone went to work Monday morning and I got up and went out to Renton. I got a bit lost but eventually found my way there only to find out that it was closed Mondays. No prob. I'll stop by tomorrow on my way down to Portland and in the mean time I'd do my last oil change. Still no more than two nights in Seattle, right?
But the old chief had other plans... I left the bike shop and was entering the on ramp for the 405 when my bike started to wobble a bit beneath me. I didn't think much of it because the pavement on the freeways in Seattle have these grooves that my tires get caught in, causing a bit of a wobble. By the time I was on the freeway itself the wobbling was bad enough that i slowed right down, sure that something was wrong with one of my wheels. There was no exit coming up or even a shoulder, due to construction, so the moment of panic was stretched out over the next couple of miles. The next thing I know there's a cop behind me, following me. Oh, he knows I'm in destress and he's blockign traffic for me! Wrong. A few seconds later the siren goes on, just as i'm finally able to pull over.
"you want to tell me why you're going so slow down the free way with a flat tire" he asks.
"well, officer, would you rather I be doing 65 with a flat tire?" I didn't say that but I should have.
He takes my license I make to get off the bike to check it out but he won't let me. He then returns to his vehicle to check my license and plates or whatever and leaves me with ten minutes to curse myself, knowing that I don't have my air pump, patch kit or, of course a spare tube with me. The patch kit was with my stuff back at the house, and, although i didn't know it yet, the pump was still in vancouver.
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