I seem to have worn out my tires.
I hadn’t noticed before this trip, but today it’s been painfully obvious. Not only is the Z not holding a line like she should (her not-quite-professional rider notwithstanding), but I could see the squared-off rear all the way from my vantage point inside the restaurant today at lunch. Now I’m sitting on the curb in front of my gas station parking spot and noticing the front is cupping and at the wear bar, too. Oops.
I guess just over 7k isn’t bad for the stockers. I’ll call Hare Racing tomorrow, and hope they can reshoe my baby with Pilot Roads before the Wind Dancers Pacific Rally next weekend.
On that note, I’m about 90 boring freeway miles from home now. I’ll stop once or twice more to take pity on my poor butt (even the Rick Mayer seat is no match for 150 miles of interstates) and should be home by dinnertime. Yay!