Saturday evening my friends joined me at the campsite. They worked their shifts and then rode the 20-ish miles. They arrived after dark. (First part of trip here.)
Once they arrived we cooked up some hotdogs on my camp stove and talked by the fire. They were tuckered and went to bed early. I stayed up for a little while longer, reading by candlelight.
The next morning we took our time taking down camp. We talked, made coffee. It’s really nice to have people to share camp duties with (i.e. I didn’t have to do the dishes, because I cooked and made coffee.)
Before rolling out for good, we made one final stop at the bathroom. I looked down and noticed my back tire looked low. My pressure gauge told me I had 15 psi in the tire…
I attached the pump, but that familiar hiss from the day before visited. I checked the connector on the pump. It was fine. Then I realized the sound was coming from the tire. Probably from the valve stem.
“Guys, I think I have a problem.”
For most cyclists, a flat tire is all in a days work. For me, it’s still a pretty new thing. Honestly, before this trip I’ve never had to change a tire on the road, and I’ve changed less than a handful of tires since I started working on my bike.
Changing a tire is extra challenging because the back of my frame is really tight. I built my bike from a lugged steel, Nashbar frame I traded for at the St. Pete Bike Co-op. Everything on that bike I either pulled from my old bike (brake levers, racks), was donated to me (crankset, front panniers), bought new (low riders, shifters, pedals, kickstand, fenders, back panniers), or obtained from the St. Pete Bike Co-op (cassette, stem & handlebars). While everything was thoughtfully chosen (as much as available parts at the co-op and money allowed), it is also a bit of a Frankenbike. Not all of the pieces go together.
With that, just getting the tire off is a challenge. In addition to the being tight, the brakes also have less clearance than normal because of the fenders. Just getting the tire off is a two-(wo)man job.
So I’m very fortunate this happened when my friends were there. After the tire was off I needed their assistance in changing the tube, because it’s been awhile since I’ve done that and what I was doing just wasn’t working. (I know I need to practice.) Then it took three of us to get the tire back on the bike. Someone had to spread the frame, while someone had to hold the brakes and derailleur. Someone had to push the tire in. Then I had to put my panniers back on the bike, while my friends took turns pumping the tire back up. (Technically one person could have done this last bit, but it was nice to have help.)
Whew!!
After the team effort of changing my back tire, we were on our way. We took our time heading back to St. Pete. We stopped at a coffee shop for a bit. Then be biked along the water before rejoining the Pinellas Trail.
The only other “mishap” occurred a couple of times going up overpasses. When I changed gears to my granny gear, the chain kicked off the crank. One of the times my pedals seized. Those were scary instances, though nothing truly bad happened. I know I need to adjust my derailleur so it doesn’t push the chain too far!
In Way of the Peaceful Warrior, Dan Millman sums up life in three words: paradox, humor, and change. These practice runs have given me lessons in each of these. Something always happens that contrary to my expectations. I’m learning to laugh through the more problematic of these things. I’m also learning to go with the flow during those problematic times.
One of the changes I’m seeing in myself is asking for help or allowing people to help me with less resistance. I’ve lived alone for a long time now. I’m used to doing things on my own. Maybe I even think I’m supposed to do them on my own. But there are times I need help, as everyone does. I feel very grateful for my new friends who have come to me through a love of bikes, and who have been there for me as I navigate things that are new to me and sometimes (often?) uncomfortable. They have helped me without judgment, sometimes through tears.
I’m learning when I need to rely on myself and when it’s Ok to lean…