Yesterday's ride was an adventure right from the start. As I pumped up the tires, the back tire went flat from a failure where the valve stem enters the tube (This is the fourth such failure this season ) So, I'm off to a late start. I get three miles into the ride and come across two riders who flag me down. They have a flat, have used all of their air cartridges, and have no pump. I offer the use of my pump, and the guy doesn't know how to use it. I show him how, and then suffer the insult from his riding buddy: "I guess you ole timers are used to using that sort of stuff." I bite my tongue and don't say anything. OK, so now I'm back on the road, and it's hot and humid. I reach for my water bottle; it slips out of my hand and goes bouncing along the road. After the traffic passes, I retrieve the bottle; the top's been knocked off and it's empty. I'm about half way through my ride, and figure it will be OK. Then as I approach the last four miles, I get stung right on my throat my a bee (yellow jacket I think). This almost causes me to crash, but I manage to get it under control and stop. I'm able to pull the stinger out, but it really smarts. I make the last four miles without any other issues. Despite all of this, I found myself whistling in the shower. Sometimes I think that adversity actually makes the ride special. Am I alone on this thinking?