Just pray the brakes don’t fail

I made a firm resolution to inaugurate the cycling season this year in exemplary fashion, which meant starting it off with a trip to the cycle service station. As soon as the sun came out and the daily temperatures started to rise from minus five to plus fifteen, I dusted off my silver steed and proudly rode it out of the garage. I was immediately blasted in the face by snow. It was early spring and I was only going for a very short ride, but nevertheless one that I would have to do in double-quick time. Defeated, I gave up and trudged back into the garage trailing my squeaky bike behind me. At the second attempt, I first checked out the weather forecast and finally made it to the service station. But, as it turned out, I wasn’t the only one. The service people, who I know, advised me to come back sometime around Corpus Christi, since at the time the queue seemed to end somewhere in the neighbouring district. Given the situation, when I got back to the garage I dug out my pump,