Dear bicycle gods

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.