"You have a hole in your pants!" These were the words uttered by one of my co-workers. I immediately reached for my butt to ascertain the legitimacy and extent of said hole. Sure enough a mere 1-1/4" from the crack of my butt was a hole that had no business being there.I was horrified, not by the prospect of spending the rest of the day walking around with a hole in my pants, but by the fact that I would eventually have to go home and tell my wife. She had just bought these pants. She had invested her time and energy to go shopping for them. I'm sure she paid a pretty penny for them. Yet after all those sacrifices, I manage after only a handful of wearings, to ruin them.
When I went to my bike that afternoon for the ride home, I realized the culprit for said hole. The lycra cover on the seat I was using had worn down and the underlying foam was exposed and flopping about.Underneath the foam, the plastic base of the seat was inundated with a sundry of sharp metal slivers.Obviously the foam peeled back and these metal slivers had an unabated access to my practically brand new pants.
My first order of business upon getting home and opening a cold beer. Replace bum seat!