Commentary by Wayne Lee
Hello 2026 and goodbye to 2025 and it couldn’t have come soon enough. It ended with a December I would rather not remember. It began with seven flat tires on Da Beast in the first three weeks of the month. At least it was the front tire which is much easier to remove and replace than the rear tire. On the other hand, with Da Beast sidelined I had to rely on the Death Machine 2000 as my backup transportation.
The electric scooter is perfectly suited for running errands around town but not in conditions less than smooth and/or dry. As regular readers of this space already know, the Death Machine 2000 has a well-earned reputation for separating ride from rider and I have the x-rays to prove it.
With this motivation in mind, I immediately began to remove the front tire and tube to reveal the tube was the original cheapest tube possible that had the word “THIN” in print too large to miss and I immediately decided to toss the tube and replace it with something thicker rather than to patch it and have it leak again.
What I didn’t realize at the time was that the tube wasn’t punctured. Long story short, I tried a variety of solutions only to find the wheel itself was the problem. I noticed, after replacing another tube, that after just a couple of miles, the tube had shifted and the valve stem was at an angle. The slippage was causing the valve stem to break and deflate the tire.
I took the wheel to a trusted bike shop and explained the problem and my proposed solution; a different tube with a Presta metal valve stem that’s threaded with a ring which holds it firmly in place. After the bike shop worked their magic, I went home and in no time at all, had Da Beast up and running again.
I immediately took it out to load up with much needed groceries and after restocking the cupboards, rode the half mile to the local senior center to check in and then rode around the corner to Main St. where my back tire promptly went flat. Here it is nearly Christmas, and not only is it flat tire number eight, it’s the rear tire that includes the gear cluster on one side, the large disc brake rotor on the other side, and the extremely heavy motor with all the wiring involved. Taking this apart to fix the flat is way above my pay grade.
I scootered out to the local big box store fondly known as Wally World to find the one remaining bottle of Slime as the only readily available solution. So as much as this would be my last (and least desirable) option, I went for it and filled my back tire with the green goop. It lasted less than two miles before it went flat again.
Da Beast was sidelined until I could deal with it after the holidays. Nine flat tires in roughly three weeks is more than any cyclist should be forced to endure. But 2025 wasn’t done with me just yet. Dec. 31, 2025 was the final Wednesday of the year which meant the final edition of the year for this esteemed publication.
While picking up the three mail bins from the local post office, which is no easy task on the Death Machine 2000. I noticed the office was closing at noon for New Year’s Eve, so I called Christy to see if she was aware of the new deadline. She called back to say she couldn’t make it to town in time so she would email me the mailing labels so I could get all the papers ready for the Post Office before the noon deadline.
I immediately zipped home to get the blank labels and right back to the local senior center to print the labels and apply them before I set out to make my deliveries to the Butte Creek Mill, Main St. Coffee and the Emerald Market as well as a paper each to the local library and city hall.
With the job done and the papers out, my final stop was the Ashpole Center for the Red Cross blood drive. I’m a regular donor and was ready to answer the preliminary questions with my cell phone when I realized it wasn’t in my pocket. I retraced my steps and none of the places I had been knew anything about a missing cell phone.
I used this paper’s business phone, which I also carry, to dial my personal phone hoping to hear a ring or at least a vibration. I tried a dozen times at the senior center since it was the last place I had used it and got nothing. I did the same around my humble abode and nothing but crickets. I had no clue as to where the sum total of my existence had gone and I no longer had contact with the outside world, because my personal contacts are on my personal phone.
I was in technological solitary confinement, unable to communicate. I also lost the ability to conduct my banking or do my laundry or engage in simple communications with friends and family. I was lost and isolated. Eventually the missing phone went dead as my last attempt to call went directly to voicemail.
So my New Year’s resolution, whether I like it or not, is to start over with another phone and see if I can rebuild my large list of contacts as well as all the apps I have become reliant upon in order to conduct my daily affairs.
So if I’ve been ignoring your calls, now you know why!
Also, if you found a plain black phone in an equally plain black case laying around any of the aforementioned locations on or around Christmas Eve, give me a call on the URI line 541-821-9646.
