Cycling: You the Bike Mechanic

I’m an enthusiastic cyclist. Road, dirt, track–I’ve been doing it all for years. But my enthusiasm is for actually riding the bike, not cleaning it, not sitting around discussing the finer points of its design, and certainly not repairing it.

I tried to pay attention when people showed me how to repair a flat, fix my chain, or even how the roof rack works. But somehow the information never stayed in my head, and I’d feel like the kid sister when I had a breakdown and someone else had to make the repair. But they loved me at the local bike shop.

And then I got lucky. I married a guy who fixed bikes in a shop for 4 years and went on to write many articles on bike repair. My husband would fix my bike before I even knew there was a problem.

In contrast, my friend Liz had no one but herself to maintain her bike. I had long considered myself more of an expert on bikes than her (simply because I started riding first). Then I caught her adjusting her rear derailleur and discussing the merits of her Kevlar-belted tires with my husband and realized that she may be the lucky one.

Inspired by Liz’s example and reminded of the dangers of breaking down by myself on a lonely road or trail, I prevailed upon my husband for yet another repair lesson. I listened patiently and tried my hand at a few things, but it was no use. Fifteen minutes was all it took before I was stifling yawns. Learning to fix my bike was boring.

So although I had been shown how to fix a flat, read about the procedure (complete with pictures), and even done a few of the steps–in the safety of the kitchen–I had never actually changed a tire from start to finish under combat conditions. You know what I mean–by the side of the road, miles from anywhere, cars whizzing by, and maybe the sun setting to heighten the urgency.

But I got my chance, like all cyclists will sooner or later. One bright spring morning, I was riding with my mom when she flatted. I rode 3 miles back to the bike shop to see if my husband would help us. (See how far I would go to avoid a repair?) But he was away on an errand.

Well, this was it. Fix it or walk. And so, working together, combining our limited experience and passing the wheel back and forth when the going got tough, my mom and I changed the tube. After the last bit of air was pumped in and we saw that it actually stayed in, we whooped with joy. Our fingers were sore, we had smudges on our arms and legs, and we hadn’t broken any speed records. But it taught me one simple thing that’s enabled me to tighten seat bolts, align brake pads, and adjust derailleurs: If you gotta do it, you’ll find it in yourself.

So, all you bike-repair neophytes, take it from one who’s been there. If you’re not the kind who learns from a demonstration, you’ll learn from hands-on experience. All you need is the opportunity–and you’ll surely get it. One day, you’ll be out on your own and a tire will lose air or something will break. Get ready by reading the next two chapters and giving bike repair a try.

Just by trying, you’ll be learning more than you think; and when you need to make an adjustment or minor repair to get home safely, chances are, you’ll do okay.

P.S.–Just remember to pack a spare tube, a patch kit, and some tools, primarily a pump, tire levers, and a multitool that contains a chain tool, allen wrenches, and screwdrivers.