"You ride better when you're pissed...."

The weather was perfect for riding tonight; about 10 mph wind from the west, 75 degrees, sunny. I met hubby in Hines Park (he had my bike in his truck) and we set off on our ride. A few minutes into the ride, my chain started hopping gears. Annoying.

He says, "Oh, yeah, when I had it strapped down in the truck, I think the bungee might have been on your cable." Swell. I wanted to keep going so I found a few gears that didn't seem to be an issue and dealt with it.

Until we got to our first climb. I'm about 3/4 of the way up this steep freakin' hill and my chain jumps around, sticks, my foot comes out of my one clip and I end up standing on the hill. I wasn't even in my granny gear yet. I'm at its steepest point in the hill with no choice but to walk the next 10 yards or so. Meanwhile, he's up and over the hill and down the other side and out of sight when I realize my front derailleur is bent. Ugh.

So I wait for him to realize I'm not behind him and soon he circles back for me and fucks around with it for a while. "Well, you can ride your middle chain rings front and back; there are no hils on the way home and it's rubbing a little."

Double ugh. The thing I hate more than anything else is that f'ing rubbing sound of the chain along the front derailleur, or however the fuck you spell it.

So...yeah, I'm pissed and it's 12 miles back to the car. So I put my head down, went down into the drops and just went for it in whatever gear I was in, which fortunately was perfect for a high speed flat. Wind at my back, I averaged 22 the whole way back and hit 28 on a flat at one point.

He thought it was hilarious. "You ride a lot better when you're pissed."

I raised my pink-gloved hand and gave him the one-finger salute and pedaled faster.