‘Ppttsssss…’ That’s the sound of air bursting out of your tire, which is usually followed immediately by the sound of you shouting ‘Son of a ‘b%#t&h!’

Flats haven’t ever been a common thing for me – I might even be able to recall each of them, counting them just on my two hands. I remember pinch flatting on a parking block once. I can vividly remember the time I slashed my tire open on shale on the Transrockies, just 1km from a stage finish – other teams breathing down our necks. The memory of me having to walk through downtown Edmonton (full lycra) with my bike, is a fond one… I was even whistled at.

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