3 is the magic #

 For those who've known me too long and too well, they know that this post's title has a special, not particularly palatable, but entirely digested meaning for me. But no, in this case, I'm talking about finding sunglasses roadside after breaking the pair I brought, on the first morning of a mini tour (more on that another, hopefully soon, time).

Fear not, the broken pair were expendable, but as I learned, not ass bendable, instead snapping cleanly across the nose bridge when I took a morning backward tumble while finegaling my bike and camping gear into a thicket of trees to ensure I would still have wheels and a cozy sleeping bag after my morning hike up Mount Grace.

Ok, a quick teaser image for a little more of the tour.

Part of the reason the broken glasses were expendable is I found them, like all the sunglasses I've had since probably 8th grade. A lot of people lose glasses on the road, an assumption I'm comfortable making over the less likely probability that one single person loses an inordinate number of glasses over a wide range of roads. Either way, I find them.

So, when I broke the found glasses, I just figured I'd find more, but sticking to my theme of three, I had to wait until the third day of my tour to find any, and then I needed to find three pairs! Call me Goldilocks, but the first pair was too missing one lens, the 2nd pair was too heavy scratched, but the third pair was just right. 

Sure, I didn't find that last magical pair until the clouds had arrived, obviating any need for sunglasses, but that gave plenty of time to wait until I could safely rinse the grunge off in the Connecticut River. See: lack of sight through heavily scratch pair number two. And yes, I did appreciate my new specks finishing my ride home today!

Two not-so-good things and one winner in the middle come in threes.