Mister Mandeville

Y'all remember Mister Griffith? Well, he has an crotchedy old army buddy, Mister Mandeville, who lives down in Santa Monica. We went to his house this weekend; he lives at the top of a five-mile hill. Now, you would think that if you have to suffer through a 5-mile hill by the beach, you should get rewarded with a beautiful view of the ocean, right? Wrong. We saw nothing but high walls and construction equipment. Fine. So you'd think that if you had to climb up the hill, you'd at least get a nice easy ride down, right? Wrong. I went down about 1/10 mile and I heard PWAFT! SZWING!

I got another flat.

I always carry a spare tube with me, and the Tri Team Pit Crew helped me change out the tire. (Thanks guys!) But after pumping it back up, I noticed there was a big gash in the side of the tire, and the tube was already bulging out through the hole. (eerily reminiscent of my own hernia.) If I tried riding just 100 yards on it, I would simply pop the new tube. Was I doomed to be stranded forever with Mister Mandeville?!

Fortunately, our Fearless Leader handed me an empty Cliff Bar wrapper (Crunchy Peanut Butter flavor). I was able to fold it up and insert it inside the tire as a protective barrier to seal the hole in the tire. It worked! Who knew how versitile those Cliff Bars really are?!