Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

A few weeks ago, driving back from Napa, my car overheated. I pulled off the freeway in Pleasanton and managed to limp to a parking spot in the shade behind a strip mall. That day it was 111 degrees, but it had dropped to 110 by the time I got there. AAA never came, so after 4 hours and a bit of sunstroke, I added a couple of liters of water to the radiator and limped home, going 35 mph on the freeway with my blinkers on. The blinkers didn't stop the semis from changing lanes so late that I had to pull partway into the shoulder to avoid getting rammed.

The next day I wanted to go to the gym, but when I changed gears on my bike both sheaths holding the gear cables shattered into white clouds of plastic.

My car and bike were in the shop, but I had one more option. I got my old bike out, oiled the chain, and pumped the tires. As I was pumping the tires, my handheld pump broke.

Mrs. Turtle thought it was all a sign telling me not to workout, but like Conan, I make my own destiny. I made it to the gym the old fashioned way: on foot.


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