Pop.
Pop pop.
Pop POP pop pop POP pop.
Pop.
I started to get a little worried and adjusted the Gatorade bottle.
POP POP POP pop pop pop.
pop. pop. POP POp. PoP. POP. POP POP POP POP.
Pop pop pop POP. Pop.
This was not normal. 25 miles into my 60 mile ride, I was sure my tires were about to disintegrate mid pedal. I stopped and inspected my bike. Everything seemed to be in working order. I hopped back on.
Pop. POP pop pop POPOPOPPOPOOPOPOPPOPPOPOPPOPOPP.
What the?!?!
I stopped again and called my dad thinking he would surely know. He did. Apparently, when the asphalt gets hot enough, it gets covered in tiny little air bubbles. Weird. Assured that this paved rapid-fire-machine-gun popping was normal, I continued on my way enjoying the thought of riding over miles of bubble wrap.
Pop. pop pop pop pop POP Pop poP PoP pOp POP pop pop pop. POP.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
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2 comments:
man! i always loved biking over that! When I was a kid we would walk the lines of tar on our street and stick our toes in it when it was so hot it got all soft. Mom hated it.. she told us we'd end up with permanently black feet and a third eye. We did it anyway.
Hey so I just found your blog on EC's blog...I really liked the Texas Department of Insurance advice because I'm going round and round with an insurance company right now. And I think when it sounds like you're riding on bubble wrap that's your sign that it's too hot to be outside. You should be a lazy sloth like me inside!
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