|The road is covered in black guys|
So I walked the bike through our neighborhood due to the many spots of black ice. Why black guys? Try saying black ice. My husband called me racist when I said I couldn't bike in because of black ice. He asked me how black guys prevented me from biking in.
Me: "I can't bike in today because of black ice."
Hubby: "How is that related to you biking?"
Me: "What do you mean? The black ice is making the roads dangerous."
Hubby: "Is there only one?"
Me: "What do you mean?"
Hubby: "Black guys or black guy?"
I will spare you the rest of this convo. We got to the correct version of black ice eventually. And no, we aren't racist. Hubby only thinks I am. Because I didn't bike in because of black ice.
I made it to the road. Almost fell on my ass again twice. The spots of black ice weren't the worst, it was the water that was on top that made it treacherous to walk on. Biking would have been worse. Even when I was walking with the bike, the tires slid all over. I gave up in the face of bike lanes covered in that shit. I am so mad. But I guess that's what I get for living on top of a hill.
I tried googling black ice and biking. Damn you, internet, you are of no help.
|I don't think this book really is about black ice|
|Neither is this|
Because that's what they do. Not only do they steal my lube but they replace the new lube with an old bottle of crappy lube from Fred Meyer.
Hopefully the road will be clear tomorrow from black ice and I can bike in.