To start here, let me note that I am a person who firmly believes that, even if you have some fancy book learnin’, you should still be able to work with your hands.
From about age 12 up to and through college I worked summers for my Dad’s contracting business as a plumber’s helper. That experience, even though I was a essentially a glorified gopher (or maybe not so glorified) has been invaluable through my adult life - it has made me willing and able to do things for myself that I would otherwise have to bring in - and pay - someone else to do. That doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes pay other people anyway, but it means that I often at least have the option.
That being said, I remember the day clearly when, as a young adult, I was opining about the possibility of not going on to school and finding other work. I was saying this to my father, and then I watched his his face as he clearly looked back in his memory and began to recall my handiwork on previous projects before he said: "Son, you should go to college."
It was said with love, and he was right.
This memory comes back me any time I take on something like putting tires on my trike.
Last time I wrote about the rapid deterioration of the front tires on my Catrike Expedition, and how I was fortunate to have made it back without encountering a debilitating failure. But while I’d made it back, having enjoyed one more ride, it was clear that the trike was going to be out of commission until A) the new tires I ordered from Utah Trikes came in; and 2) I could actually get them put on.
The getting them put on was going to be the more challenging part given that, as indicated above, I am someone who’s skills at technical labor indicated that I should go to college... It was also slightly complicated by the fact that I had another issue to deal with. Shortly after I posted that story last week several very helpful folks in the Catrike Owner’s Group on Facebook pointed out that I needed to check my toe-in.
Like my father before them, they were right - shout out here to everyone who offered the idea and suggestions, but especially Jim Aliano, who brought it up first and had multiple helpful suggestions, as well as Bob Richardson who’s practical solution was invaluable.
And I did go out for a ride that day, pressing my trusty 1987 Cannondale SR400 back into service. A little air in the tires and I slid my feet into the stirrups and she was off, ready and raring to go...
...and all the ride really accomplished was to make me miss my trike. It’s honestly the first time in a very long time I can remember being ready for a ride to just be over. It’s not the Cannondale’s fault - she’s doing her best. Its not her, it’s me.
All of which meant that, when the tires arrived this past Wednesday I jumped at the chance to get them on the trike. It also means that Wednesday was when I was once again reminded of my skill level when it comes to working with my hands.
To begin with, I started out with the worse of the two tires, the right side, which had the tear and the bulge in it. In the intervening time between the end of my ride on Saturday and getting to the repair the tube - which had miraculously held while I was riding it - had given up the ghost. I could hardly blame it, so I thanked it for its service and pulled out my spare tubes.
I had three - two new ones, and one that I had patched last summer. But I had one flat, one intact tube on the other wheel, and two new tires. So all good, right?
As I set to getting the old tire off I started by setting the trike on its side and removing the brake caliper, figuring that was the first step towards pulling the wheel off the trike. However, after I did this I realized, looking at the trike sitting sideways, that I didn’t need to remove the wheel. So I stopped with that approach and decided to work with it _on_ the trike.
The old tire came off relatively easily and getting the inside bead set for the new one went by pretty easily as well. I put one of the new tubes in, and then went to getting the outside edge on to the wheel. And that - as always - is where the challenges began.
The recommendation is always that you set the tire in the wheel by hand. I understand the logic behind this and, while I’ve seen it done on multiple occasions by the skilled technicians at bike shops, I lack either the hand strength, the technique, or perhaps both, to do it myself.
So I employed tire levers. Well, if I’m being honest, I employed tire levers and a prodigious amount of swearing. Rosie - who is my frequent companion when I am working in the garage - may have learned a new term or two that evening. Fortunately, she generally keeps these things to herself.
With the levers and the swearing dutifully employed I managed to snap the tire on the wheel. I pulled out the pump and...
...you already know what’s coming right? The tube gave a disheartening hiss as the air came out of wherever I’d managed to pinch a hole with the tire lever.
There may have been more swearing at that point. I think somewhere in there Rosie actually covered her ears with her paws.
But I still had one new tube, and one patched tube to work with so, swearing aside, it was all fine. Just fine.
It becomes a bit of a blur after that, but suffice it to say that I ended up putting a hole in the second new tube, and somewhere in there I managed to snap a plastic tire lever in half (lots of swearing then, let me tell you) and had to default to steel levers and the patched tube to successfully replace that first tire.
That’s right - the first tire.
But there it was, now, mounted on the wheel and holding air - success! However, it was also the case that I’d mounted only one of two new tires, and I had no more spare tubes. Sure, the tube in the other tire was still intact, but given my track record on this task, I was not confident that I’d end up with a new tire on with an inflatable tube.
So I made an executive decision. The tire on the other wheel was worn, but not nearly as badly as the one I’d already replaced. The center was bald, but none of the cord or Kevlar was showing. So I decided to leave it, figuring it would be good for a couple of rides while I waited for more tubes to arrive.
I’m sure that’s the sort of decision that would make some people’s teeth itch, but I’d already been several days without a ride because the Expedition was out of commission and because the Cannondale and I are broke up. I’d reset the toe-in, and though it was an ugly solution, it would get be back on the road.
Itchy teeth or not, I’m pleased to say that this worked out just fine. I was able to get rides in on Thursday and Friday. And Saturday, the tubes arrived:
I wanted some insurance, and hopefully to have tubes left over to put in the pannier bags for another day. And now that the tubes were in, I went ahead and changed the other tire.
Astonishing to no one more than it was to me, I managed to get it in one - and that using metal tire levers. So now things are even again - new shoes on both fronts.
None of this is to say that the struggles will dissuade me. I realized a couple of years ago that, if I was going to keep increasing my riding time I was going to have to build my skills as a bike mechanic. Our nearest bike shop is twenty minutes away and, while they are always very helpful, they do not sell trikes. The nearest trike dealer - Meads Bike Shop - is also very helpful, but it’s an hour one way for me, and so not ideal for everyday problems. The reality is that rural cycling - like many other things rural - means learning to do for yourself.