Fear Not The Flat

I am a cyclist who does NOT possess mechanical prowess. What I did possess was a dirty little secret. My secret was shameful. It made me nervous when I rode alone. It was a secret that I dared not share with teammates.

I had never changed a flat by myself before.

That was my secret.

I was guilty of taking my bike to the shop to have a flat fixed. Flats that occurred on the road had been fixed, either out of pity or impatience, by those riding with me. I was living on borrowed time. It was not a matter of if, but a matter of when, that flat would occur when I was out by myself on a long country road outside of cell phone range. I could not go on like this. The nightmares were getting to frequent. Something had to change.

Then it happened. Jessi, upon hearing Kube point out that my tires were pretty shot, offered me a brand new pair of Gator Skins. A big thanks to Jessi. This was the impetus that I needed. I was finally going to change my tires without any assistance.

Not being a big fan of instructions, I dove into the task relying on what I’d remembered from roadside changes. Unfortunately, my memory is virtually non-existent. After a 20 minute wrestling match that would have made Hulk Hogan proud, I decided to break out the instructions that Carrie had given me at last year’s Team Revolution’s Fix-a-Flat clinic. Oh…put one side of the tire in before you put the inner tube in. Things went smoothly from there until I broke my tire tool trying to get that last 8” or so of tire under the rim. For the record, a flathead screwdriver makes a pretty good replacement. Just watch out for the metal shavings it can create. 50 minutes after I had started the task, the front wheel was ready to roll.

Next up was the daunting, more complicated rear wheel. Removal and installation of the tire went pretty smoothly. The challenge here was the re-installation of the wheel. I stared blankly at the wheel, my rear derailleur and the back forks. A good plan was not coming to mind. So I rather blindly tried to force the situation. The wheel made it in between the forks and was where it needed to be in relation to the chain. There was only one small problem. It was stuck rather solidly at an incorrect angle that didn’t allow the skewer to go up into their notches. $%#&!

A flurry of further contemplation and plain old body English brought the skewer to rest in its proper place. One hour and sixteen minutes from its start, my mission was accomplished. Feelings of pride and relief swept over me with intensity close to my post-marathon experience. My flat fear was gone. I had conquered myself. I am ready to teach a clinic.

Note from Team Rev: Flat repair need not involve wrestling and cursing and massive amounts of time (but Big Ring, this doesn’t mean we’re not proud of you!) Come join us at our maintenance clinic on February 6 for a fix-a-flat refresher (and much more!) to learn the skills you need to make simple repairs with ease.

Tags: Big Ring, clinic, fix-a-flat

Category: Big Ring