It was a cold and rainy day, the kinda day when you expect no one to show up for a ride. The Flanders Fat Cat was ready to see if he could find something productive to do, like let the white noise of rain lull him off into nap-land. However, she of great intestinal fortitude, Brahma Mamma, sounded the klaxon horn. So those two Grimpeurs, stout of heart but weak of mind, set out to climb Snake Hill and parts beyond.
As they climbed, the rain got stronger and colder. Frankly, that is the type of weather the Fat Cat enjoys once he is nudged out into it. Mamma and the Cat were spitting water and generally having a good ride when the air rushed out of the thing. The Fat Cat had switched to a grippier cross tire to battle the rain. He had just put it on a brand new rear rim the night before. The last thing he expected was a flat. He had gone into this well prepared and with the right equipment, quite uncharacteristic. Why had the cycling Gods forsaken him so?
Brahma Mamma huddled under a sparse tree While The Fat Cat fumbled about in the rising storm. Still confused as to why he had been struck low and despite the conditions, an exhaustive search of the tube for evidence took place. Finally, only one small hole was found, no snake-bite. The inside of the tire was clean as a whistle and there was no sign of any forced entry- what tha hell? Then, on the verge of reassembly, realization hit like a bag of whoopee cushions. NO RIM TAPE! Some dummy had forgotten to put in rim tape before putting the rear wheel, tube and tire together. It was a miracle the Grimpeurs had gotten as far as they did, what, with 30 some metal orifices gnawing away at the rubber ballooning down their throats.
Well, even the ultra-polite Brahma Mamma agreed, her hands turning various shades of purple in the cold, that what they had there was the height of stupidity. The fat Cat cobbled together a repair by using a spare tube as "rim tape." Having no sharp objects, It was necessary to gnaw off the valve stem of the tape-to-be like a wet rat and chew a hole through for the other tube's stem.
The repair got the Fat Cat back down the Hill safely. Brahma's mottled and contorted hands, barely able to operate the brakes, got her down as well. Needless to say, there was little enthusiasm for doing the wheel job right and heading back out.
And, there you have it, the stupidest moment in Grimping history.
