I set of for a nice Sunday morning ride to enjoy the first hint of spring and get some "training" miles in. About 10 miles in I see a group of confused cyclists ahead. I stop to say hi and try to help them figure out their next turn on the route. It was as I waved them off that the subtle sound of bubbly hissing from a slowly deflating soggy tire became apparent. No problem, 5 minutes of messing around, a new tube was in place and I was off again. About 3 miles down the road, I'm just getting into the steeper portion of a favourite climb when I notice the front tire is soft again. I pull it apart (now far less amused by the whole affair) and try to find the leak in the tube. 10 minutes later, the tube still hasn't given up its secret, and dispair sets in when I remember that I forgot to put the patch kit in the saddle-bag.
So, there is nothing to do but put the wheel back together, inflate the tire and ride until it starts to go soft in a bid to make it home (about 10 miles). Well this is all OK, except I can get maybe 3/4 to a mile on each inflation. On about my third or fourth stop I find a suitable place, just beyond a driveway with a hedge to lean the bike whilst I pump the tire. I'm just finishing off when a golden retriever appears out of nowhere and bites me on the arse. Luckily I frighten Fido back home before he had any chance to grab more lunch and wonder if things could get any worse.
Well at least they didn't - until I arrived home in a towering rage, fixed the bike (again) and was about to get some dinner. Then I learn that Poor Marco Pantani is dead.
One of those days.....