Today I decided to ride in my upright cruiser with swept bars and a 3-speed hub.  I wanted a little change of pace from the last few trips I've had to work.  The ride in was great; I had a slight tailwind and soft pedaled the 15 miles.

Coming home was good.  It was the weekend, I was in a good mood and I had a golf date with my wife and two friends I've met while playing (frequently) at the Minneapolis city golf courses.

At 84th and France, I was waiting at the light to turn left.  The light changed and I started to pedal to get up to speed to keep pace with traffic.

*Pop*

Oh, come on!

My chain had broken, so now I'm coasting helplessly through the intersection with a few cars behind me, also wanting to turn left.  I make it through and hop on the sidewalk, tossing my bike in the grass.  Looking back, I see that my chain is lying sadly in the road like a flattened snake.

Waiting for the lights and using the crosswalks, I make my way back to that side of the intersection to retrieve my chain.  As the lights go back to red, stopping traffic in front of my chain, I prepare to make my move.

Great.

A cop car stops on top of my failed chain.  The chain is resting just under the back bumper, so I'm able to get it, but I wonder what the cop will think when someone walks into traffic directly behind him, ducks down for a split second, then walks back to the side of the road.  I guess I'll find out.

I get over to the chain, retrieve it and get back to the sidewalk without any excitement.  Using the lights and the crosswalks, I return to my bike on the far side of the intersection.

During that time, one of my co-workers rides by and checks in with my to make sure I'm alright.  I explain the situation and ask if he's got a chain tool.  No dice.

So now, I'm sitting with my bike, trying to reach my wife by phone and I notice a cop car turning onto France out of a residential street that wouldn't usually get frequented by patrol cars.  I bet it's the cop that stopped on top of my chain looping back to check me out.

Sure enough, while he's stopped in the left turn lane he calls over to me to make sure I'm alright.  I briefly explain my situation and that I've got things covered (while another of my co-workers rolls up to check on me).  The officer helpfully informs me of the nearest bike shop, then drives away with the green light.

Now, I'm interested in trying to get home and salvage a fun evening of golf.  I finally get in touch with Ericca and tell her the situation and what I'm trying to work out.  A couple more calls later, and I've got things lined up.

My buddy Justin will stop by the house and pick up Ericca and our clubs in his pickup truck.  They'll come down to pick me up, then we'll drive over to the course and meet Dan there.

With all of that lined up, it's simply passing time until they get here.  Pushing my bike, I cross I-494 on the sidewalk and head to the gas station where they're going to meet me.  Using their restroom, I change into shorts and my golf shirt, which I had conveniently worn to work.

A half hour later, they show up and we make our way to the course, meeting Dan, who beat us there by just 10 minutes.  Everything ended up working out surprisingly fine.

Through this experience, I was reminded of a good lesson and I also learned a new one:
- First, always carry enough tools and supplies (tubes/chain/etc) to get you home.
- Second, when you're at the gas station with a half hour to kill, no matter how good Gatorade, Gummy Life Savers and Combos look, don't buy and consume all three at once.