Three Dog Night

Bill and John rode Thursday morning to beat the heat. Their pedals flew unimpeded past the first saddle, until they reached the "battle zone". Tiny land mines lurked on the road waiting patiently for the unwary cyclist to sail by. With a whoosh, their momentum punctuated with hissing air brought them to a stand still. Simple, a thorn lodged firmly in John's front tire. All right not bad. Get that flat fixed and on their way they go, when pop. John picked up a new problem. Again in the front tire. Off comes the wheel, examination. Root cause analysis determined John had picked up a wire. The thorn was easy to remove. The wire not so. Lodged into the tread, the wire wouldn't budge. Unable to get a grip with his fingers, nothing in the tool kit gripped it. John took the bull by its horns so to say. He bit the wire with his teeth and spat it onto the ground. He patched the tube. Covered the hole. Tire back on the bike. Time to crank on the pedals and get moving again. It was less than half a mile later when the tire went flat a third time. Words! The patch covered the primary hole, but a secondary hole at the edge of the patch had been missed.

Bill likened the ride after the American Band Three Dog Night, calling it the Three Flat Day.