« She came out of the coffee shop, mug in hand, and before I could protest this disgrace, she knelt down and carefully dripped the remnants of her Stumptown Americano, nearly half the mug, onto her chain. She pedaled it backward slowly to achieve proper saturation. I was stricken with curiosity as to the effectiveness of this servicing. We rolled out and to my satisfaction there was no sound of birds and mice being tortured, just the hum of tires and the smell of roasting coffee beans. For the first ten miles at least.
