Tires. It's all about tires. Oh the delightful tires. I'm tired of tires.

I just had to use the word "Tire" no less than four times in the title of this post.

I had another one of those contemplative moments this morning. I was up until four last night working on finals. I figure two or three days a semester (and only two or three, Sister Morgan,) of mostly sleepless nights because you're busy is okay. Surprisingly, I was able to get up on time to be able to shower and take off for work and not be too late. I decided to ride my bike to save time. It's just a cheap bike my sister bought a year ago that is really worth more for its convenience than its actual monetary value (there's something to think about.) I haven't ridden it since November for the snow, and so when I pulled it out to coast off to work, the tires were flat and made this rubbery squeak as they moved along the ground. Frustrated, I stopped and used my small and inadequate hand pump to fill the tires as much as I thought was necessary.

Five minutes later, I thought I was done pumping and tried to take off again. I got down the driveway to the street, but the squeaking rubber and soggy feel of the tires let me know I wasn't done yet. I pulled over again and put more air in the tires. My triceps became sore because I was pumping so fast for so long. As usual, a thought came to my mind that attempted to validate the situation (it's interesting how my subconscious is kind enough to volunteer an explanation of my life for me without me having to actually try to find a meaning-- who cares if it's wrong?) that compared this situation to what Steven Covey calls "sharpening the saw." If we don't steal a few minutes from our labor to sharpen our saws, we'll spend all day sawing at tree but never completing the job. I was filling my tires, trying to take a few minutes to invest in a greater convenience.

I was already late for work, so I thought, "Screw it," and rode down the hill to the library. It's nice living at the top of the hill because I can just coast all the way to wherever I need to go. The tires weren't full, so the sound of rubber on metal was my companion, but it wasn't as bad as before. I was just worried that I'd hit a bump and then get a flat tire because my tires weren't full.

Now this is the typical Matt part, where I try to moralize my situation. I think I validate my life through finding some moral in events I don't find significant. I realized that right now, riding my bike was a symbol of how I felt. I am coasting through life, riding on low tires, and I don't have the time or energy to invest in filling them up. Going downhill is fine, but I'm going to have a heck of a time getting home on those low tires. Uphill riding is hazardous to the health of my inner tubes and exhausting. This inconvenience now will be a big problem later. Maybe I'll have to buy new inner tubes when they pop because they weren't full, I don't know. Don't really care right now. Just trying to get it all done.


1 comment:

Sky said...

My favorite line: "Now this is the typical Matt part . . . ."