It appears that the internet has run out of adjectives, and awesome is the only one left. At least that’s the conclusion I must draw, based on a lot of the feedback I’ve received recently. It’s always nice to read positive feedback, but it makes me wonder how true Eddie Izzard’s description of the watering-down of ‘awesome’ really is. The cycle journey home this afternoon, though, gave me something to truly be in awe of. (Like a million hot dogs.)
I’ve been quite lucky with punctures: although I’ve had plenty, the only previous time I’ve had one more than a couple of miles from home, I was just a few minutes’ walk from a train station. That’s handy, but it’s not awesome. Today’s puncture occurred 7.75km from home (coincidentally, close to another train station on the same line). Just two days earlier, however, I had excavated a space in my bag and started carrying patch spray again. That’s great timing, but it’s still not awesome. I hadn’t used patch spray before, so I expected it to be like a silicone sealant gun injecting the kind of green slime that’s in self-sealing inner tubes—another great invention. Pressing the nozzle soon corrected me. Through the clear tube that connected the can to the valve, I watched a white foam rush into the tyre, and barely had time to think about what chemical reactions might be happening before it stopped, having plugged the hole and inflated the tyre palpably above the 3.0 bar I’d pumped it to earlier in the week. So not only did it fix my tyre, it made it better, and held all the way home. That’s awesome.
Now I want some more. And I’m oddly ambivalent about the next puncture.