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And yet, the part of the bike that actually touches the mountain — the business end of c++ your bike — is invariably a thin, soft, and permeable slice of rubber. At least, I c++ think it’s ironic. Maybe it’s just unfortunate. That Alanis Morisette song screwed up my understanding of irony for pretty much ever, by going through a list of things that c++ were clearly merely unfortunate and calling each of them ironic. Now I second-guess myself any time I call something ironic, for fear of pulling a “Morissette.” No, I’m pretty sure I was right. A bike built to handle anything a mountain can dish out that ultimately relies on air and a flimsy patch of rubber is a reasonable example of irony. OK, let’s move on. Today, I have several random things to say about flat tires.
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