These are the names of a coworker’s car, and another’s bicycle.
My bike is named My Bike. No, really.
Okay, no, not at all.
This is my bike:
I bought it shortly after I moved to DC. Okay, granted, it’s spent most of the last two years collecting dust in my building’s basement. But as I’ve been losing weight and spending time on, among other things, exercise bikes, I’ve been wanting to ride again. Truthfully, I haven’t ridding a bicycle regularly in fourteen years.
Oh, and also? Riding a bike in DC scares the crap out of me. But I’ve got a helmet, and I’m willing to give it a try.
You might notice the front tire is completely flat. You might also notice there’s a bike pump behind the bicycle. Anyway, both tires were flat when I pulled it out of the basement. The back tire inflated — the front tire? Not so much.
Checking on Twitter for bike shop repair facilities, I was recommended to venture out to City Bikes in Adams Morgan. Describing the tire’s failure to inflate, it was suggested the problem is most likely the inner tube, which’ll need to be replaced.
So, um, anyone know about how much that’ll run? I’d like to get the work done early this coming Saturday so that I can do some biking Sunday and Monday mornings.