why does this stuff always happen to me?

Three people walk into a bar. One of them is an idiot. The other two aren't me.

I have a little story to tell you guys.

Two cyclists from Macon, one that curiously looks a lot like me, and another that may or may not ride for Pacesetter Steel and carries the nickname chubby hubby are riding Friday around ellijay. In search of a little turkey burn-off they embark on a nice little ride that carries them out of ellijay, around to the backside of Fort mountain, up and over the 6 mile climb and back down into ellijay.

Two thirds of the way in, but at the base of the imposing mountain in their path, they stop at a gas station for some anti-bonk material. Several cokes, reeses cups and cookies later they head on their way. Upon leaving the parking lot, the cyclist that resembles me heres a loud metallic explosion and almost loses the ability to have kids thanks to his top tube. Inspection shows that his SMALL FRONT CHAINRING HAS SHATTERRED IN PIECES!!!

The cyclists inspect this problem in the parking lot. Only 3 of the 5 crank bolts remain, all next to each other, meaning the big chainring is next to go if they can't move one of the bolts to the opposite side to more stably hold the chainring. Only problem is they don't have the necessary tools. After a few minutes of struggling in vain to remove a crank bolt, they find a man in a van who has the necessary tools. This country gentleman seems bewildered by the request, but the "USA" stamped on the cyclists shorts appear to convince the man that the lycra-boy deserves a helping hand. So, he reaches for the allen wrenches and not the 12 guage.

After the quick fix, the two cyclists finish their ride, with the mishap-prone one thoroughly enjoying the long uphill grind in his 53-26.