She appeared about fifty yards to the right of where I stopped. A red light to change – a left turn away from the beginning of my drive home. Over her shoulder a bike, around her neck a flat inner tube, and in her hand, a dismantled rim and tire. Her face was grimaced, and once having to carry my broken bike for three miles out of mountain bike disaster, I knew how she must have been feeling: cold, tired, frustrated, in pain, and just wanting to be home...