A biker's tale

NOTE: The events in this riveting, action packed tale actually happened... TO ME!

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Today, I had to go pick up a book at Dufferin Clark, about 5km from my house. Biking there and picking up the book was no problem.
Unfortunately, however, the guy at the library wouldn't give me a bag, and, being the rational person I am, I stuffed it into the front of my pants and kept it there until I biked to Dollarama across the street, where I then had to remove it from my pants in the least suspicious manner possible and approach the casher to buy a bag.

Once that was settled, I went back on my way, stopping at Tim Hortons to pick up an iced coffee. If you want advice on how to ride a bike with a bag with a book on one handlebar and an iced coffee in your opposite hand on a windy day, here's a hint - don't do it.

However, about halfway accross the bridge over the 407 I heard a thunk and a snap. Stopping my bike on the narrow pathway on the bridge, I got off only to see my bike chain in one piece. One, straight piece. On the ground. Putting together metal can not be easily done with hands, so I resolved to walk the remaining two kilometers uphill back to my house. My empty iced coffee cup flew out of my pocket somewhere along the way but by then I was too annoyed to care.

At home, my dad and grandpa took a look at it and noticed a part of the chain was missing, meaning we'd have to go to Canadian tire and see what we could do.

We'll see where this goes from here.