I had decided to just install a new tube in my ten-speed, because I has already patched the tube in the rear wheel about four times. I was hoping that it was just a bad tube, and replacing it would stop the run of flats I had been having as I rode back and forth across the college campus, going to class.
I levered the old tire off, stripped out the tube, and intalled the new one. As soon as I got the tire on, I noticed that the pump was not sitting where I kept it. I looked all over the dorm room, and couldn't find it. I figured Wes had probably loaned it to someone, so I took the wheel and threw it in the car.
I was going to town, so I thought I would just stop at the Shell station next to the UT-Room Restaurant and use their air hose.
I pulled in, and the attendant walked out.
"I don't need any gas, today," I told him. I filled up there, pretty often. "I just need to air up my tire..."
I pulled the bike wheel out, and showed it to him.
"I'll get that for you," he said, and took it out of my hand.
Before I could stop him, he jammed the hose onto the valve and let 'er rip. Of course, the high-volume capacity air hose blew the tire right off the rim, since he didn't ease a bit of air into it to seat the bead.
BOOM! There went my brand-new tube.
The grease monkey just handed the wheel back to me, turned around and walked away. I was so mad, I just got in the car and drove away. Had I stayed, I would have ended up in jail by the time I was through.
I went to school there for another four and a half years. I never spent another penny at that Shell station.