Auntie Helen
Ich bin Powerfrau!
- Location
- 47906 Kempen, Germany
How irritating. 1,600 miles with no punctures and now one yesterday and today!
Settle down comfortably, here's a story about my punctures and about human nature and my ineptness.
Since I swapped to Big Apple tyres all round on my recumbent trike I have been blessedly free of punctures. I had noted that the tread was pretty low on the front two, though, so put in an order for new tyres all round.
Yesterday morning I had some gear trouble on my ride, the front chainring being stuck in the highest gear. My lovely husband serviced the gear cables for me and I decided to take the bike out for a quick spin to check it all worked properly.
Now normally I carry my sidepods with my tools, repair kit, spare inner tube etc. But for some bizarre reason I decided not to take them with me (why???) Off I set, trundling around my 10 mile local country lane route which is always great fun.
After 5 miles, when I had left habitation behind and was out in some fields, I realised I had a puncture in my left tyre. Argh! No tools! No mobile phone! Nothing!
I kept on cycling until I could see a house, running on the rim. Grrr. There were lights on in the house, fortunately, and when I knocked a very nice lady in her early sixties answered the door. She lent me her phone so I could ring my husband to come and collect me and the bike, then we sat down and had a good natter while we waited for him. When Uncle James arrived he had brought the puncture repair kit as well as the car and I decided it would be good to cycle home (less effort than taking the seat of the recumbent so it would fit in the car), so he brought the wheel inside and we watched him doing his manly inner-tube changing job whilst the lady (Rosemary) fed him tea and we discussed sailing (her husband sails too).
When the tyre was done, tea finished and I realised it was getting dark (and of course I had no lights!) I decided it was time to cycle home. The lady invited me to pop in any time I was passing and off I went, James behind me in the car, and completed my journey. I got home feeling very positive about the friendliness of people in my village.
Today the electricity board were doing some work on cables so we were to be without electricity from 9am - 4pm. This meant my house was cold and dark and I decided to go a pub in the next village for lunch. Despite the snow I though I'd go on my trike as it's only 3 miles and that seems a bit wasteful in the car. When I arrived at the pub the snow was still floating down so I put the bike in the covered smoking area to keep the snow off the seat. As I was locking it I heard a hissing sound - yes, another puncture, the air disturbing a small puddle of water on the ground in which the wheel was standing. This puncture was in the right hand side wheel.
I decided to have lunch first, then mend it (fortunately I had all my tools). So after a very tasty lunch I went outside to get the wheel off. First problem - Uncle James, a manly man, had been the one to do up the Quick Release on the wheel. It was no longer a Quick Release, instead it was an Impossible-To-Release. So I went back into the pub and asked if there was a strong chappie to help me (this invariably works, if you need help). Indeed there was, the strong chappie came out to the smoking shed, tried his best to undo the quick-release, failed, scratched his head for a couple of moments, rooted through my bag of tools and used my tyre levers to lever up the quick release. There's no way I could have done it with my partial arm disability so I vowed once again to warn Uncle James not to do these things up too tightly! I phoned him up to tell him about it - he was working away so unable to come to rescue me.
So I took the wheel into the nice warm pub, settled down comfortably by the fire and got my tool bag ready. Only the little collar that goes on the inner tube valve was jammed against the wheel rim. I couldn't budge it. Various chaps in the pub also tried, none of them could do it. The pub landlord was asked if he had any tools (like pliers) and all he could manage were some rusty wirecutters which wouldn't grip the tiny screw. I tried and tried and tried, various other pub customers had a go, none of us could do it. One commented, "what is your husband, a gorilla?"
So I had to phone for a taxi, get a taxi the 3 miles home (£12.10!!!!), then go in my car to collect the bike. It's still in the car outside, Mr Gorilla is home and will have a look at it tomorrow. We think the cold has shrunk the metal onto the valve but it's still a real pain - foiled by something so small.
I'm looking forward to the arrival of the new tyres which will hopefully reduce the number of punctures. Two in two days is annoying - and expensive in taxi fares!
Settle down comfortably, here's a story about my punctures and about human nature and my ineptness.
Since I swapped to Big Apple tyres all round on my recumbent trike I have been blessedly free of punctures. I had noted that the tread was pretty low on the front two, though, so put in an order for new tyres all round.
Yesterday morning I had some gear trouble on my ride, the front chainring being stuck in the highest gear. My lovely husband serviced the gear cables for me and I decided to take the bike out for a quick spin to check it all worked properly.
Now normally I carry my sidepods with my tools, repair kit, spare inner tube etc. But for some bizarre reason I decided not to take them with me (why???) Off I set, trundling around my 10 mile local country lane route which is always great fun.
After 5 miles, when I had left habitation behind and was out in some fields, I realised I had a puncture in my left tyre. Argh! No tools! No mobile phone! Nothing!
I kept on cycling until I could see a house, running on the rim. Grrr. There were lights on in the house, fortunately, and when I knocked a very nice lady in her early sixties answered the door. She lent me her phone so I could ring my husband to come and collect me and the bike, then we sat down and had a good natter while we waited for him. When Uncle James arrived he had brought the puncture repair kit as well as the car and I decided it would be good to cycle home (less effort than taking the seat of the recumbent so it would fit in the car), so he brought the wheel inside and we watched him doing his manly inner-tube changing job whilst the lady (Rosemary) fed him tea and we discussed sailing (her husband sails too).
When the tyre was done, tea finished and I realised it was getting dark (and of course I had no lights!) I decided it was time to cycle home. The lady invited me to pop in any time I was passing and off I went, James behind me in the car, and completed my journey. I got home feeling very positive about the friendliness of people in my village.
Today the electricity board were doing some work on cables so we were to be without electricity from 9am - 4pm. This meant my house was cold and dark and I decided to go a pub in the next village for lunch. Despite the snow I though I'd go on my trike as it's only 3 miles and that seems a bit wasteful in the car. When I arrived at the pub the snow was still floating down so I put the bike in the covered smoking area to keep the snow off the seat. As I was locking it I heard a hissing sound - yes, another puncture, the air disturbing a small puddle of water on the ground in which the wheel was standing. This puncture was in the right hand side wheel.
I decided to have lunch first, then mend it (fortunately I had all my tools). So after a very tasty lunch I went outside to get the wheel off. First problem - Uncle James, a manly man, had been the one to do up the Quick Release on the wheel. It was no longer a Quick Release, instead it was an Impossible-To-Release. So I went back into the pub and asked if there was a strong chappie to help me (this invariably works, if you need help). Indeed there was, the strong chappie came out to the smoking shed, tried his best to undo the quick-release, failed, scratched his head for a couple of moments, rooted through my bag of tools and used my tyre levers to lever up the quick release. There's no way I could have done it with my partial arm disability so I vowed once again to warn Uncle James not to do these things up too tightly! I phoned him up to tell him about it - he was working away so unable to come to rescue me.
So I took the wheel into the nice warm pub, settled down comfortably by the fire and got my tool bag ready. Only the little collar that goes on the inner tube valve was jammed against the wheel rim. I couldn't budge it. Various chaps in the pub also tried, none of them could do it. The pub landlord was asked if he had any tools (like pliers) and all he could manage were some rusty wirecutters which wouldn't grip the tiny screw. I tried and tried and tried, various other pub customers had a go, none of us could do it. One commented, "what is your husband, a gorilla?"
So I had to phone for a taxi, get a taxi the 3 miles home (£12.10!!!!), then go in my car to collect the bike. It's still in the car outside, Mr Gorilla is home and will have a look at it tomorrow. We think the cold has shrunk the metal onto the valve but it's still a real pain - foiled by something so small.
I'm looking forward to the arrival of the new tyres which will hopefully reduce the number of punctures. Two in two days is annoying - and expensive in taxi fares!