The Four-Minute Bike Ride

I pulled my bike off the hanger, lubed the chain, and began the task of gathering my bike gear. It was so much easier when we didn't have gloves, clipless shoes, padded bike shorts, synthetic workout shirts, and hip-packs to hold my iPod. As I was adjusting the headphones, running the cord up my back, I forgot the pod was still attached to the wire, sitting on my bed. I turned, and flung the pod onto my cement floor three feet down. Oh christ.
It still worked, and I remembered reading that the little buggers can take a fall or two. This was good, because as I was trying to zip up the crusty zipper on my hip-pack, with my pod in it, I dropped it. Goddamnit. About an hour later I had my gear on, after digging through my unused socks for the special bike socks, rifling through my athletic wear for the padded shorts, and the same for the shirt.
Finally, I got on my bike, after wiping the crusted dirt off my helmet. Careening down the driveway I noticed my brakes felt especially squishy. I made it into the shade of the canyon, with the intention of adjusting the handlebar tweakers to tighten the cable. I then squeezed the brake, testing for tension, and instead broke the brake cable.
I rode back home, and upon reaching my front yard looked at my little bikometer. Four minutes. Sixty-seven hundredths of a mile. I hung my now decrepit bike back up, removed the gear, and got in my truck. At least I didn't drop my iPod again.