Before I knew I shouldn't ride on broken spokes, I rode on broken spokes a lot. This practice ended up with me handing over a large chunk of change to have a new wheel built. This same wheel stayed true for 1,100 miles down the coast, only to break a spoke in a motel room in Solvang where JE met me for his birthday. This wasn't discovered until JE was about to drop me off at the train station in Santa Barbara where he had picked me up 3 days earlier. It was really early and he was trying to get back to OC for work. Using our magic little mobile technological devices, we located a bike shop. They wouldn't open their doors for another 2 hours, though the employees were arriving as we pulled in. JE was opting to stick around, but I begged him to leave me, knowing that I would get faster attention if I, a lone woman cycle-tourist, were sitting on their curb looking utterly pathetic. Within 15 minutes of JE leaving, the owner of the shop ushered me in and offered me coffee and doughnuts. They fixed my bike and I was on the road as the shop was opening in earnest. Kind strangers, thank you!
Tonight, as we made our way around the Back Bay, we were rolling down a hill when I heard a loud pop on my rear wheel. JE finished the loop back to the car and headed back to pick me up. I trotted along making the most of my time, enjoying the neighborhood I was in (the same neighborhood where my grandparents moved when they settled in California, and where John Wayne made his home), and practiced running with my bike (I am so bruised!). This is the second spoke to break in a week and some.
Swimming: I couldn't find my proper swim bottoms so I ended up dragging my voluminous swim trunks around (they are sort of way too big--what happened?). Good grief! Got an awesome upper body work out, however!
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