In an otherwise nondescript weekend–almost no tours, tests, parties, interviews, meetings, events or obligations–death reigned supreme, and by that I mean the Death Machine was my prime mode of transport. Although as I noted yesterday, in the one appointment I did have, I was also killed off myself, albeit temporarily. The Death Machine got its name from being like a near-death experience with every ride, particularly because it takes some time to learn how to properly balance to ride the recumbent. But the bicycle has also been notoriously fickle, breaking down at the most inopportune times. A couple of years…