Pittsburgh's Indian Trails

Recently, I mused glowingly about the fancy new wheels I decided to buy for my fixed gear (which still needs a name). This morning, I noticed the slightest little cheep coming out of the front wheel on each rotation. A little rubbing at the brake perhaps? I'm still not entirely sure, but in examining the problem I discovered that both wheels are already untrue, laterally. Nothing dramatic, but while when I bought them they were literally perfect, now one can observe a slight wobble from side to side when they spin freely. Easily ignored, easily readjusted, but impossible to ignore.

Because for this I can think all of the lovely potholes that no matter how many times I make the same commute somehow manage to exceed by just a few how many I can hold at once in my memory. Each day, I hit something, typically due to a momentary lapse of attention. For all the tax talk and firehouse closures and such, it might be more honest just to turn the roads back to dirt. At least then I could stop kidding myself and buy a mountain bike.