Unfortunately, this writer had neither pen nor paper, nor means to poach our neighbor's clients.
Oslin Creek Road began auspiciously. I realized that cycling on a grave road was simpler if you fixed your gaze 50 - 100 feet ahead. A sufficiently long view minimizes the wiggles and wobbles that make life uncertain. Even so, this stretch of road seemed to take twice as long as usual. I realized after a while that a 10-20 mph headwind warped one's perceptions. Cycling engages all the senses, and the speed of the air rushing past your face translates into the impression of distance covered.
Hurricane Road? Well, it's been far too long since my last 20 mile ride, so I took it easy. Then, I noticed an extra rattle from behind, and came to realize that I was riding on a flat tire. As I spent 20 minutes changing the inner tube, I realized that the tire itself was starting to look threadbare. Still, one can hope ...
Less than 1/4 mile later, the second inner tube went flat. I called Dad for a lift.