The following weekend, I took advantage of my newly acquired knowledge and hopped on a morning bikebus to the town of Olot. Luckily, there was a bikebus at ten (the first one was at 7:30, if I'm not lying). Even at ten, it was freezing outside, and I had absolutely zero desire to go anywhere on a bike. Plus, I was coming down a hill — windy. When I pulled up, I was going to pump up my tires at the bike station at the bus terminal. A bike station is this stand equipped with various wrenches, screwdrivers, and Allen keys for a bike, a pump, and a mount to make things more convenient while you're doing repairs. I didn't manage to pump up the tires after all — the driver, whom I already knew, called me over to load my bike inside. This time, I wasn't alone as a passenger. There were a few older folks nearby — a man and a woman, also with bikes. Once we all got settled and the driver started the engine, two younger chicks suddenly rolled up. At the very last moment — occupied my rightful seat, the scoundrels!
The ride took an hour, kind of boring. The scenery outside the window was fairly mildly mountainous, but, obviously, no Switzerland. When the bikebus rolled into Olot, everyone quickly scattered in different directions. The chicks took off right away, despite the chill, while the older folks went to warm their bones in the station cafeteria. I figured I wasn't that old yet — dressed a bit warmer and rode off. In the process, I realized that maybe there was no point in showing off after all. It was seriously cold, and I stopped near a bio-store and cafe to grab some coffee for energy, seeing as how things hadn't worked out with tea in the morning. Fortunately, the cafe had floor-to-ceiling glass walls, and I parked my bike right in front of my table. Locked it with my micro-lock with an alarm, and once again rejoiced at my partial foresight.
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