Amanda and I went on a short bicycle ride yesterday; she is training for the Danskin Triathlon in August. Unfortunately, she blew a tire on the ride. Fortunately, I always carry everything to patch tires as I have had many, many flats. They always seem to occur at the worst times, too, like when one is four miles downhill from work in the rain and one has to get to a meeting. Yesterday, though, the weather was fine, and Amanda finally had no choice but to learn how to fix a flat (she had always resisted when in the comfort of our own home).
She was shocked that I just pulled out a sticker to patch the tire. They are easy to carry instead of using a full patch and cement, but they will leak. I tend not to use patched tubes again anyway (although maybe I should for possible environmental reasons), so I just need a patch to last temporarily.
We passed our neighbor Billy on I90. He usually bicycle commutes to his workplace on the Eastside. He and I only had a fraction of a second to recognize each other, but he greeted Amanda enthusiastically as he was more prepared since she was somewhere behind me.