Repairs

When I became reacquainted with cycling after years of riding the same old bike only occasionally, my new devotion and equipment meant that I had to learn about a lot of new advances that had been made in the intervening years. Integrated headsets and shifters and new types of bottom brackets were just a few of the differences. Another difference lay within me -- I was more mature, and had learned the benefits of maintaining things, of prevention instead of intervention. I wanted to know how things worked so I could be self-sustaining and a better bike owner.

I also discovered another benefit of this virtuous-appearing stance, which was I could spend more time and money on bike stuff, from cables to tools to tires. I had another reason to visit the bike shops and bring gear home, whether it was a crank puller or some lube and tubes. I was a sustenance cyclist, and I was saving money in the long run, I told myself and my spousal unit.

The first piece of repair equipment I purchased was the big one, the repair stand. I got an inexpensive but sturdy stand, portable to an extent, and reliable. It has served me well. Then, I found a small basic tool kit, the kind meant for a traveling mechanic. This was fairly inexpensive, and gave me all the basic tools -- chain whip, bottom-bracket tool, cassette tool, and chain tool, to name a few. After getting crank pullers and tire levers, and a scrounging a few normal household tools (screwdrivers, cable cutters, and pliers) from my tool boxes, I was pretty much set. Oh, yes, and I needed a box of those cloth rags on a roll, and some good lubes and cleaners. And a box of latex gloves -- the latex gloves are vital to keeping a homespun repair approach viable, because if you have to scrub grease off your hands after every session, you will soon tire of it all.

I transformed part of my work room into a bike room -- well, OK, I transformed most of my work room into a bike room, relegating my work bench and standard tools to about 40% of the room. And I signed up for a repair class.

The local bike shop's repair class was very useful. As I mentioned, I had a lot to learn about the new bikes, and taking my new steed apart and putting it back together taught me a lot, with enough at stake that I truly paid attention and retained a lot of what I learned.

But hands-on, mistake-riddled home repairs proved to be my most important education. I can't recall any particularly bungled repairs or attempts at repairs with any shop pyrotechnics. I did have one bad outcome that taught me a lot about properly setting a chain pin. I had taken my chain off for cleaning, and put it back together, setting a new pin in place. I was a little careless, and didn't notice that it didn't seat quite completely (that magic little feeling of setting just right), and didn't visually examine it. I just set it and walked away. The next morning, six miles from the end of my longish commute, the chain popped. Lacking a replacement pin or anything that could substitute, I was forced to walk six miles pushing my bike. I have since switched to the chains that link using linking plates, so there is no doubt about the chain being whole.

I also briefly became the neighborhood shop, as people bought new bikes or spruced up their kids old bikes. This ended by and large, however, because their interest in bike maintenance lapsed. Now, in the spring, I will get a few calls asking me to go over a bike that has sat all winter or sounds odd when first taken out, but the issues are usually simple (lube or brake offsets are very common, new cables often are involved).

After about five years of privately repairing and maintaining my bike, it has become a part of the entire ritual, and I am quite adept at it, I feel. I can get in and out of my little shop, even for a major repair, without taking much time or breaking a sweat. I am also much better at on-road repairs and issues, seemingly having acquired a bit of a knack based on the work I've done at home, what I've read about, and practice through repetition. When stricken with a flat, I can get it fixed quickly and reliably. When a riding buddy has an issue, I can fix it, or at least explain what's going on so that we can fix it later if it's just a minor annoyance we can't fix well on the road. I even found myself serving in the role of medic after a riding buddy crashed, washing asphalt out of his wounds with my water bottle and checking his bike over before declaring it fit to ride again.

These new skills have even carried over into a renewed craftiness when faced with minor breakdowns in non-cycling life. While I've always been fairly handy, honing my skills with bike repairs also honed my handyman skills in other areas.

The mechanical side of cycling, aside from its sweet aesthetic and glorious simplicity, delivers great benefits. Taking responsibility for it has been a boon for me, and given me another dimension to enjoy as I speed down the road.