rolling again!

shiny new valve

rode to work today.  yes, on my bike.  that i fixed. by myself. i rode gingerly. afraid to go over bumps, afraid to change gears. 

this morning i finally had that thank you meal with R - you know, the guy who was right about my keys returning once we cut off the lock, ...ok, HE cut off the lock, i watched.  i'm glad i was clever enough to arrange it so that i could reward myself for his efforts by getting to spend even more time with him and call it "buying him breakfast".

i wasn't going to bring up the bike, because he's a bit of a compulsive helper, but he said: "so, how's it going?"  what am i gonna do, lie?  so, i spilled and i learned that i can use the wrong valve, it's a matter of sticking a smaller object through a larger hole.  the opposite would have been a problem.  that's good news!

quickly resuming bike-unrelated topics we enjoyed our breakfast and an awesome chat.  then i rushed home to try to finish my project and get the bike out of my livingroom!


reassembly started off promising.  i followed the youtube instructions for getting the tire on the wheel and the inner tube inside, it was pretty easy.  later, temples sweaty from pumping air past the valve for a good 5 minutes before i realized what i was doing, i noticed that just by chance i'd put the tire on the correct way!  encouraged by my good fortune i barreled on and wondered:  how far down should i push the axle in the slots?  is it even?  how far can i adjust the fender to give the tire enough room?  did i tighten the nuts enough? how many times can i wash this dirt off my hands before i scrub the skin right through?

finally i was sure there was no chafing and the wheel was happily spinning in place with a minimum of wobble.  any good teacher would have said:  "great!  now take it off and do it again."  luckily, i didn't need a teacher, my chain told me!  it was all bunched up on one side of the nut.  i couldn't be lucky twice.

i looked up the derailleur configuration online.  undid the tire, slung the chain in the right spot and remounted the tire.  but then the chain kept falling off.  it got stuck in the tiny gap between the front gear and the body, and i wondered how it even got in there?  that's when i nearly cried.   so close now!  what if i break the chain?  but i kept fiddling with it and just as mysteriously it slipped back out.  and i didn't break the chain.  and with my fingers covered up to my palms in black grime i realized, i fixed my own flat today! 

i wanted a decent tread, but all they had was mountain bike tires, so it vibrates a little on the street.  but otherwise, i felt pretty pleased with myself when i actually arrived at work and nothing had fallen off.  on my lunch hour i went to see if the tire was still inflated.  yup. it feels good to know how to do it, and it was an important experience for reaching a deeper understanding, but i don't like it.  it's messy.  and finicky.  and it's confusing!  the sizes!  what's 700 even mean?  700 whats?  and what about this strange hybrid of metric and imperial measurement?  1.9?  well, it's bigger than 2 centimetres!  so, since when do we break down inches into decimals?

next time i have a flat, the fairweather cyclists will all have had their fairweather work done, and i'll just drop into my shop and whine:  "fix eeeeet!... and throw in a tuneup, pleeeze", and grin.

i have the money, why should i torture myself?

first attempt

chaos in my living room

since my tire exploded last week, i went to three different stores to find a replacement close enough to what i want. tonight i came home equipped with one new tire from MEC, one of those hook thingies you need to get the old tire off, and an inner tube that will fit, as opposed to the 700 x skinny one my regular mechanic sold me. ...sigh, i thought he knew us. and so did he.

the whole walk home i was worried about the extra point two increments the tire was wider than the 1.9 whatevers of the original one. the guy at MEC told me it shouldn’t be a problem, but i forgot to tell him my bike had fenders.  he also asked me what kind of valve it used.  he showed me the two different types.

i’ve seen a youtube video on how to change a rear tire.  i know the guy makes it look easy, and i know that i need a wrench or two to remove a wheel that isn’t quick release. i was ready to get dirty!

i thought it would be a good idea to take my special virgin project to my apartment.  it was getting dark, i wouldn’t have much time to do it in the morning, and i’m tired of walking!  i could watch television while changing a tire - how cool!  and  in case of reassembly disaster it could all stay sprawled out where it wants until i call for backup or try again another day.

crankiness already set in before i even unlocked the bike, when i tried to decide if i should go upstairs and drop off my luggage first, and come back for the bike, or if i should save a trip and get it all up at once. having chosen option two, there's me trying to lift the bike around the corners of the wheelchair/stroller ramp cluttered with apartment building sized recycle bins on their way to the curb, my basket heavy with my napsack, and the new tire slipping off my shoulder at every step.  the tire didn’t do much better slung around the handlebar as  i scrambled out of the elevator, and scrape-clunk-scrape-clunked my poor flat down the hall to my apartment and sqeezed in through the narrow vestibule.

i turned the dirty monster upside down in my living room.  i did have the presence of angry mind to spread a blanket under the whole mess to spare the beige carpet, before getting out the wrench.

i got  a good amount of weather hardened grease under my fingernails, while trying to get untangled from the chain. how DOES a chain wind around the derailleur? there's another youtube search for later. but taking off the tire was pretty easy, once i remembered to undo the brake.

when i realized the tire might fit into the fender, but i definitely chose the wrong valve, i just washed my hands again with dishsoap to try to get the smell of rubber off, and had some vodka. what’s another few days of walking and taking the streetcar?

on foot

cracked from winter riding

yesterday, as i was leaving for work, not 20 yards from home i heard a big pop, and a huge shriek.  the shriek was me.  the pop was my rear tire exploding.  my bike is now locked up outside my home with a flat.  a truly sad sight.  and scary.  a slightly wounded bicycle always seems an invitation to pilfer.

i called my bike shop in the afternoon, the manager said, "no, it shouldn't take long to fix".  i said, "how's it look for tomorrow"  he put me through to the mechanic.  "what kind of bike do you have?"  asked the mechanic.  he recognizes me, i've been there with many a flat.  "hold on" he said. minutes later i found myself back on the line with the store manager who told me they are full up for the week.  an example of stellar customer service. the manager kept stammering variations on the same thing in order to avoid committing to any kind of alternate solution, "so, yeah, ..."  "probably not gonna be able to..."  "try back next week",  no waiting list, no appointment.  am i to pop in occasionally with my broken down vehicle on the off chance that now there's room for my bike to wait its turn?

today i dropped into the shop on my way to work to find out how it works.

i've been walking.  walking's fun once in a while, especially in this weather - once you accept the sheer lack of speed.  you see stuff.  you get less stressed.  you're unencumbered.  you can pop into a shop without effort.  you can amble like pedestrians do.  pedestrians are so pathetically unaware of their surroundings.  it's a fun exercise.

i went downstairs straight to where the mechanic hangs out and does his magic.  i asked him what the procedure was for getting in line for repair.   he knows my bike.  he handed me an inner tube and said he'd go and get the manager, then he disappeared up the stairs.  i followed him.  "he's just in the bathroom"  i paid for my inner tube.  i now own an inner tube.

the manager said, "i have no idea if he takes appointments, that's up to the mechanic.  go ask him"  after i briefly explained about the impending runaround, he marched right down to the evasive mechanic and came back 5 minutes later saying he'd just talked to the owner on the phone.  their other location could take me right now and fix it while i wait!

how nice!  i was on my way to work.  on foot.  no, he wouldn't be there tomorrow.

it's time to stop being such a little princess and learn how to fix the fucking thing myself!

keys found

key's found.  month later.  at shoppers drugmart, eaton's centre.  don't ask.  don't know.  they've had an adventure!  i wish they could talk.

not a bike thief

two days ago i locked my bike on queen street and crossed the street to go into a shop.  five minutes later, paying for my merchandise, i noticed my keys missing.  i turned my pockets and bags inside out, searched the shop, retraced my steps to my bike, looked under and in things, popped into a couple of neighbouring stores.  clearly i dropped my keys and someone picked them up!

reluctantly, i abandoned my bike and walked to work.

no-one had called to report the keys found.  how would they know to do this, you ask?  my work key card was attached to my set of keys in a luggage tag.  my full name and place of work printed on it..  at my desk i first spent half an hour googling this information to see whether my home address could be found this way.  if you typed in your website in whois.com it used to display your billing address. thank gawd they stopped that. what took them so long?

suddenly i wondered if i may have been pick-pocketed by someone who had his eye on my bike, while watching me lock it!  so i called the girl at the shop - ok, the condom shack! - and asked her to look out the window to see if my bike was still there.

sorry to bother you, i’m the one who lost her keys, do you have a moment?  - no, across the street - the one with the two baskets and the flowers, you see it?

it was still there.

after work,reasonably assured i wouldn’t be robbed or raped, i walked to canadian tire and  bought a chain anyways, but decided against spending 300 dollars (my guess) to hire a locksmith.  then i walked home.  it was strange to be locked out of my own home, out of my life actually.  but i kept thinking, at least it’s not my wallet i lost!

my mother let me into the building and into my apartment.  i borrowed her copy of my key.  i installed the chain on the door in already existing holes in the frame.  then i looked through my box of spare keys.  i found a key to the extra lock i carry on my luggage rack, but not to the one currently holding my bicycle hostage on queen street.

the next morning i called the girl at the condom shack.  hi, i’m so sorry to bother you again, i’m the one who lost her keys.  do you have a  moment?

my bike had survived the night.  and the shop girl (a different girl) was a very good sport about it.  i won’t let anyone near it, she said!

how sweet!

then i emailed my neighbour, a real experienced bike guy, who might have some bolt cutters.  bolt cutters won’t do it, said experienced bike guy.  he convinced me to leave it in his hands, he would go there with tools and bring my baby home safe.  no offence to R, but out of all my acquaintances, he most looks the part of a bike thief - youthful, wiry, mysterious, black toque. ...i don’t know.  what’s a bike thief look like?  but i was worried about him, and wanted to be there, but he would be on foot, and wanted to ride home after bailing me out.  he assured me he could handle it.  why not send him an email to refer to, if i wished.

you’ve seen my bike, right?,  i said.

i called the girl at the condom shack.  it was the first girl again who answered,  the one who originally helped me with my purchase.  hi, i’m so sorry to bother you, i’m the one who lost her keys.  yes, haha, do you have a moment?  i’m having someone come and cut my bike loose.  it’s going to look an awful lot like he’s stealing it!  ...so, i was wondering, if you could just, if need be, vouch for him?

-------------

so, i wasn’t there, but here’s how it went down as i understand it from R’s account.  R starts to hack away at my lock, and out of the restaurant behind him come two lovely waiters in their white shirts and black vests to challenge tough guy R who seems  to be stealing a ladies' bike.  condom girl sees this and rushes out to say it’s ok, the owner lost her keys!  at this point the waiters start to share their experiences of lost keys and locked bikes, and give R advice.

this whole time R is working away with clearly inadequate tools.  you’re the worst bike thief i’ve ever seen, says shop girl! wonder how many bike thieves she knows.

thus, what was dangerously starting to look like an abandoned bike, spent another night in exile.

this morning R and i set out together to finish the job.  he borrowed another neighbour’s van. aside from the money i’m spending to replace all these keys and locks, i’m calling in an awful lot of favours!   let’s think of this as an adventure, said R. i can't believe i can't find that key! don't worry, it'll turn up, he said, once we cut the lock.

he stopped the van across the street from my bike, told me to stay with the illegally parked vehicle, and left the engine running.  i got out to take some photos.  as worried as i was about R getting arrested, i’m even more worried, though not surprised, at the mix of people just walking by, or looking, or deliberately not looking.  one woman stopped and got into a conversation with him.  i didn’t hear them but it could have easily gone something like this:  it’s ok, the woman standing there by the get-away van, yes, the one giving you the thumbs up, she lost her keys.

thank you!,  i mouthed.  somewhat assured, the feisty woman moved on.

10 minutes later, the lock was off, i hugged R, and i went straight to MEC.  then to work.

total projected cost of this adventure:

bike lock - $30

door chain - $15

various keys copied - $20

work key card - $20

building key - $50

future lunch with R - priceless!

what an experience!  i had a chance to ponder the potentially high price of reckless convenience.  i spent some quality time with R.  i have new interesting photographs.  i walked so much my shin muscles are sore.  and i now own a brand new magnum cable lock.  it comes with four spare keys! i'm going to keep them each in a different place.

how to ride your bike in the snow

riding in snow on two wheels? are you crazy?

i started writing this blog last winter, and just found it in my drafts folder.  i'm getting a kick out of finishing it on this day i hope to be last heatwave day of the year.

i never thought i would ride my bike in the snow, but this is my fourth winter coming up on my bike, and i have learned that snow is surprisingly sticky.

riding your bike in the snow is like walking in the snow. you need good treads and you avoid exactly the same stuff.  make no sudden moves.  you can't be in a hurry, cause you can't count on staying upright while breaking or swerving at high speed.   well, i wouldn't.   i don't when i'm on foot, and my elbows are even higher off the ground when i'm on my bike.   i like my elbows whole.  avoid bumps or steep hills, at least those hills rising up on one side of you.  take hills at a 90 degree angle.   it's really that simple if you stay clear of some specific terrains.  

there are three trouble terrains for winter riding.  i avoid very sleek ice, unless it's just a tiny patch on even ground, and i know that i can glide across without having to make the slightest adjustment.

also tricky, a very deep layer of fresh snow.  by very deep i mean  about as high as your pedals, and if that snow is the sticky wet kind even less.  it will get into your fenders or between your wheels and the body, and the heavy clumps will bog you down.  forget about it.  this is when you shimmy into the centre, ride in the ruts that drivers have kindly made for you, and show them just how much the road belongs to each and every vehicle, including you.  they can go around you - just make sure you're visible!  avoid doing this during rush hour if you can - drivers really can get homicidal.

and finally, once i rode on a very cold night behind a snow plough that was leaving behind about an inch of semi-packed snow, not hard enough for my wheels to sit on top, but not soft enough to sink into.  this turned out to be exactly like riding on a beach.  i flailed and fishtailed for about a 100 yards, before i finally gave up, completely spent and out of breath, and pushed my bike the rest of the way home.



streetcar tracks need even more attention than usual.  sometimes you can clear it with your front wheel, but the back can slip and hit the groove if your angle of attack isn't steep enough (at least 45 degrees). 

otherwise, i enjoy being outside in the winter.  i prefer it to sitting on over-crowded, over-heated buses and subways.   i like the snow on my face, being shrouded in my winter coat like a sleeping bag up around my ears, connected to the elements.

i do get a slight proprietary feeling about my bikepath, and spring is always a little disappointing when the temperature starts to rise, and i suddenly have to share with the fairweather masses.

model citizen

i'm waiting for the green light  there’s a policeman standing under the viaduct ahead on the other side of the intersection, waiting for customers.  this corner is a goldmine of infractions.  drivers chasing the light, getting stuck in gridlock because the next traffic light is so close.  the length of the turn always gets underestimated.

the police car is parked half on the bike path, and half on the sidewalk. he stands blocking the rest of the bike path, and i idly wonder if he'll move or make me change lanes, ...and if there is anything he could stop me for.  i take inventory.  no helmet.  headphones.

my light turns green and while i prepare to go around him - look over my shoulder, signal and all that, i realize that i’ve almost been run over by someone merging from the offramp.

i gasp and look back to glare at him.  his face says "oops".  i turn back to the cop and see him step out of my way, and into the street!

you! he points behind me.  over there!  he points to the piece of curb in front of me. and i continue on signal a right turn, like a closely watched cyclist should.

just then, to curb my gleaming self-righteousness, the universe has hidden a huge pothole in a puddle and i almost fall off my bike doing a little leap, legs flailing, big splash!  i think my seat goes down about half an inch when i land back on it.