Dear bicycle gods,
After three pints of beer and about three miles of walking with a flat tire in the goddamn hot sun, I just want to say fuck you.
Seriously.
I don't know what the hell is up or why I'm getting random flat tires. I really don't. The beer probably isn't helping. No... that's not true. The beer is totally helping.
So, again: dear bicycle gods, bite me.
Sincerely, me.
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