Flat Tires & Lessons In Humility
I could hear the imaginary, taunting screams of “shame, shame, shame” as i rolled my bike home..
There’s Simply Nothing More Infuriating Than a Flat
Not a paper cut, not a public toilet seat soaked in pish, not slaving over a freshly made spaghetti and meatballs to have it slide right off your plate as you sit down (this one hurt the most).
Nothing.
For some reason there’s an immense feeling of shame experienced when walking beside a bicycle. Like riding a fixie— sure, it’s different, but it’s no fun.
Maybe it’s unnecessary paranoia kicking in but you can almost hear the taunting whispers. As you pass, others point and laugh at your misery:
“Look at that man walking beside his bike. Doesn’t he know you can ride them?”
I’m exaggerating but the sentiment’s unchanged. Walking beside a broken bicycle is humiliating, not because there’s something intrinsically wrong about something being broken, but because everyone knows i should be riding it.
This is exactly what happened to me today.
I set out in the evening sun blasting “Fuck You” tunes in my earphones. I was expertly winding through traffic, cycling with no hands to egotistically demonstrate my proficiency, and racing to a destination that was yet unknown.
Sweat was dripping, blood was bumping, wheels were turning.
Unfortunately, as i mounted the last hill before i circled home, i felt the tyre buckle helplessly beneath me. Rather than put up any resistance and slowly deflate, i was down like a tonne of bricks — simulating a similar reaction from crypto any time Elon Musk tweets.
Although i regard myself as stoic in attitude i couldn’t help but feel deflated in the deflation. Here i was, an hour and a half from home with a bike that was more a hindrance than a help, what to do?
Could sit on the curb and cry, could call a mate and ask for a lift back to the flat, could walk back through central Glasgow and face my inevitable judgement.
I opted for Cersei-esque critique.
A Journey In Humility
Beginning my journey home began another journey in overthinking. This sort of behaviour is habitual for me; sometimes good, sometimes bad, pretty much always:
What would people think? Would people laugh? Is that squeak from the back tire too loud?
I was inundated with questions regarding the opinions of others; my brain a dam ready to burst with inconsequential matters. I, contrary to my core belief system, was worried about the opinions of others and my social status.
That’s until i started walking. And rolling. And walking a bit more. And rolling a bit more.
Then i started breathing. And looking around. And relaxing.
What i noticed, disconnected from my former 2 wheel glory machine, was that no-one took a 2nd glance. Not a turn of the head, not a hushed whisper, not anything.
Because no-one really gave a fuck and truth of the matter is, no-one really gives a fuck. Everyone’s so unequivocally obsessed with their own lives that you’ll barely even register on their radar.
My life is most important to me and yours to you.
There’s maybe a 0.1% of the population who thinks about others more than themselves and they’re fucking weirdos.
We’re all selfish, self-centred and egotistical, the sooner you accept that the better.
Knowing that brings me serenity and peace. As soon as i understood that as fact, it became perfectly clear to me how insignificant i was in a stranger’s eyes. I am nothing but the background in a single frame of their 24 hour day filled with other people, places and things with much more subjective importance than myself.
There was no need to be humiliated by this experience.
I was simply a man walking a bike on a summers eve. A man with some sunglasses, a sore wrist and a tendency to overthink.
While this experience is fresh in my mind i want to express gratitude for my misfortune. I could have had an unimpeded bike ride in the sun.
But a perfect bike ride wouldn’t have taught me a small lesson in humility. It wouldn’t have reminded me of my insignificance. It wouldn’t ignite a fresh perspective within myself in which i understand that this world was not made for me, nor i for it.
Maybe others don’t get as much from a flat tire but not everyone’s a wannabe philosopher/writer/entrepreneur with a streak for sarcasm.
That was my story of getting a flat, and that was my story of learning humility.
As Always,
Yours Honestly,
Commodore Pipas.
