BEING RESCUED

As some of you locals know there was an incident of a rider not stopping to help another rider. A lot has been written about that but this blog has nothing to do with that. I will say I hope it blows over and there are no hard feelings.
This blog is about me (no duh) and being rescued. If you don't know by now I ride a lot. I started riding a lot when I was 13 ( I started being hungry all time when I was 4). When you ride a lot things happen. Spokes break, tyres go flat, keys get lost, the sun goes down, the energy runs dry.
The first time I was rescued was in 1964. We were on a tour in Central California. It was my last day. I was trying to get from Rio Dell to Cupertino. With about 40 miles to go I had a spoke explode on my rear wheel on the freewheel side. I had no tools to fix that. So I called Mom. She was working, but after work out she came. This was a pretty big deal because my Mom never really did get used to driving in the Bay Area. It was rush hour. I probably wasn't the most apreciative son as I had waited at a gas station for about 7 hours. That is long time for a 13 year old. But I got home, and mom didn't mind too much.
The last time I was rescued was today. Mom is still around and would have come but I called Kathy. After the last blog she has a soft spot for me and it was getting dark. I waited today for the sun to warm. Finally at 1 it seemed ok. But that didn't leave quite enough time to go 110 kilos. Especially when I had to fix a broken chain. No tools no parts. I went back the 20 feet from where I had stopped and found both parts of the quick connecting link lying in the road. They are not supposed to come apart. Lucky! After I got to Highway 20 and it was 4pm with 30 miles to go, I pretty much knew I wasn't going to make it. I did get to Ward Road. The sun was so low I couldn't see anything and I was thinking the cars behind couldn't see me. So out came Kathy. With a smile on her face. How good is that?
She doesn't always come with a smile. I can't blame her. A few years ago John, Ben and I rode around Waldo Lake. Great ride. But when we got back to the car I could find my keys. Ben and John hitchhiked to town and I called Kathy. That sounds cool but you see I had the car. We are one of the few families with one car. She was busy, but she rounded up Gary and Susans Nissan, and she came to get me. I know, all of you are asking why didn't you use the spare key? Well I hadn't gotten around to a spare yet. I now have one of those small plastic keys sewed into my chest. Kind of like a man called horse ( a movie about the sun dance). It hurts most of the time but it is a good reminder about not loosing your key.
For a while it seemed that the main thing about being married was getting rescued. Kathy tried to explain to me that really wasn't part of the deal.
I could go on and on as there are really quite a few more but I think you get the picture. I sure appreciate all those times. I keep thinking it will be the last.
Don