I find myself all alone in a desolate roadway completely devoid of all humans with a flat rear waiting for my patch to vulcanize. If I shall not live to post again MAY THE GODS AVENGE MY DEATH WITH THE WRATHS OF A BAJILLION PUS FILLED SADDLE SOARS FOR THE RIDERS OF NEXT YEAR'S TOUR DE FRANCE.

You'll thank me when team cars are racing around with jars of ointment.