Blast! Puncture Vine

I had just filled up the tires on the used mountain bike I bought at auction, and climbed aboard for my maiden voyage on its frame. Visions of zipping along my country road with the wind sweeping across my face pleasantly played through my mind. The voyage lasted just fifty yards of my long driveway at Lamar. Thinking nothing of cutting the corner by the tree, I spun across some low spreading weeds, after which I began to hear a clickety-click sound as if I was driving with studded tires. Moments later I felt the front end of the bike sink and with it my sense of excite- ment until both the ri...