The race started after the briefest of briefs from the commissiaire we got going. The pace was pretty chill albeit with the predictable surges in the predictable places. The way everyone else was riding, I figured the best chance I'd have would be to launch off the front, in the same way you charge a wind-up toy car I pulled right back for a Top-gun style fly-by. As luck would have it, Sam was surging at the precise position and moment for us to immediately machine away a small gap as a two-up duo. A few laps went past before a few other riders, with the intent of joining us, had dragged the lazy peloton along with them. Shrug of the shoulders, have a bit of a rest and think about going again if the opportunity arose. Speeding along the back straight I heard a rhythmic ticking sound: the unmistakable countdown timer of an imminent puncture from intruding debris. I sat up and made my way to the back just to check if it really was coming from my bike and sho nuff it was. I ran my fingers over the back wheel to see if I could feel anything. Yep, intruding debris confirmed. I rolled up to the start/finish line expecting an "ah well" but I got a spare wheel instead! Result! I thought I was back in the game being granted a lap out. That was... until 5 minutes later when I got another one.
They say some days you're the hammer and others, you're the nail. Today I was the pin cushion.