"Not a Finger"

In just under three weeks I have managed to have six flat tires. This has left me feeling like Ralphie's Old Man in one of my favorite movies, A Christmas Story. The Old Man's tires are said be only tires "in the academic sense" because they are round and once made of rubber. My tires are also more patch than rubber.

But I'm no Darren McGavin. Despite all of my best intentions to be the most feared flat tire fighter in central Thailand, everytime I get a flat somebody fixes it for me. I've never seen really seen myself in the role of "damsel in distress," but I must look pretty pathetic fixing my bike because men come out of the wood work to patch my tires.

Don't get me wrong, Langland's are not what you would call "mechanically-minded" so I appreciate the help. But eventually I will be alone at sight and need to the Old Man, pretend I'm in the pit of the Indianapolis Speedway, and fix my own tires.

Until then I angrily say to fra-gee-lay bike tires, "not a finger" and hope there is someone around to bale me out.