Strange places you've repaired your bike.

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snorri

Legendary Member
My manservant just disappears with my bike and comes back with it in pristine condition, I never ask.
 
Not quite a repair, but I did once pack up my basic touring toolkit and cycle a few klicks out the road to a forest where I proceeded to strip the bike. I removed pretty much everything except the headset & B.B., disconnected brake & gear cables, chain, removed wheels, tyres and tubes, loosened and tightened every bolt for my racks, then put it all back together again, pumping tyres up with my small pump, adjusting brakes and gears. Removing the rear cassette proved to be the most difficult (and painful) which led to the investment in a fibre-fix spoke. I also learned the importance of having some kind of a container to hold bits and pieces when out in the wilds!

It probably seems totally senseless to some on here, but I can't overstate how much confidence I got from the exercise.

Actually, that makes a great deal of sense if you were planning to do a long tour. Now you've got me thinking and I may well do the same one day, especially if we ever do that Japan tour I keep going on about...
 

Heltor Chasca

Out-riding the Black Dog
Stables. Sheltered from the rain and there was a handy water butt which I submerged the inner tube to find the puncture.

Punctures happen in the rain and in the dark.
 

yello

Guest
I'm sorry, I'm boring. I can only think of 'at the side of the road' or 'in my toolshed' I wouldn't rule out 'on a park bench' but that'd be the most exotic I fear. Suffice it to say that I actually find it more amusing to think of a different question that could be answered by those same 3 responses I gave.
 
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Foghat

Freight-train-groove-rider
Not particularly strange, but memorable nonetheless.

1989 and we’re riding through one of the unlit tunnels (now no longer used) on the eastern side of the Col du Lauteret on the way down to Briançon, having been up the nearby 2,642m Col du Galibier. It’s so dark inside that we can’t see that the edge of the road has a ridge of built-up soft road debris or something sloping out from the side wall, and as I’m leading I inadvertently drift onto the ridge and fall off due to the soft material bringing me to an abrupt halt.

On exiting the tunnel, on foot, into the sunlight, I detect that the rear derailleur has been bent inwards. “Double arseburger” I think to myself – this is my new (self-built) TVT Carbone 92 Campagnolo C-Record-equipped Number One, basically a slightly larger version of the bike that Pedro Delgado had used to win the Tour de France the year before. Of course this was in the days before replaceable hangers, so we (well, I) limped back to the youth hostel down in Serre Chevalier and set about working out how to rescue this two-week pass-storming holiday.

The next region on the itinerary was the Col de L’Iseran and the Arc/Maurienne valleys, so in one of the Maurienne towns (St Michel-, St Jean- or Modane, I can’t remember which), we located a bike shop. Normally I would do such work myself, but whilst I did have plenty of tools with me, I didn’t have a hanger-straightening tool as it was too big to go in my travel toolkit, and therefore I did what I never do – entrust my bike to another mechanic.

Big mistake. As I looked on, the ‘mechanic’ gave the hanger an enormous ham-fisted wrench and broke the aluminium hanger clean off the dropout. “Double double arseburger” I thought to myself. Resisting the urge to tell him in my best schoolboy French what an utter moron he was, I noted that the dropout had actually broken at a clear weak point where a hole for the axle-positioning adjusting screw was drilled through without sufficient strengthening material around it. Nevertheless, I marched out somewhat angrily and began devising Plan C.

Now the TVT Carbone 92 was a cutting-edge carbon fibre frame that had carried Hinault, Lemond and Delgado to their 1986/1988 Tour victories/podiums, costing a junior civil servant a hefty wedge of salary, and our (well, my) holiday was at stake, so a quick rectification was the prime objective. And TVT (Technique du Verre Tisse) was French. Well, we’re in France, let’s find out where TVT is located and see if they can replace the glued dropout double-quick and get me back on those Alpine roads. By a tremendous stroke of luck, it turned out that TVT was based on the edge of the village of St Genix-sur-Guiers…..only an hour or two away in the Alpine foothills, just the other side of Chambery. Things are looking up – let’s get over there and convince them to help me out!

So we pitch up, unannounced, at the factory that manufactured the frames, indeed my frame’s place of birth, and I explain what’s happened, and is there any chance they can fit a new dropout pronto so I can get up that monster Iseran….and the Madeleine, Mont Cenis, Izoard, Croix de Fer, Glandon etc etc before our time runs out? “Sure” they say, but they need the frame completely stripped to be able carry out the work that afternoon, ready for collection the next day. “You’re on”, so we repair to the nearby village centre, and I set up my bike disassembly area in the car park of a hotel.

Thankfully I’ve got all the tools I need to get everything off and out of the frame, which I do under the blazing French sun using the boot of my Ford Sierra as a makeshift workstand. So that he doesn’t waste any precious Alpine time, my friend departs to ride up the nearby very tough Mont du Chat climb above Lac du Bourget near Aix les Bains….and with his lowest gear of 42-23 (!! – that’s what racing cyclists had in those days) – imagine doing that now.

However, when removing the front brake, I notice that a crack has appeared in the carbon fork crown where the brake bolt fits….obviously caused by the bars/fork turning hard during the crash and the brake arm hitting the down tube in the process. So, with the frame stripped it’s back to TVT for the dropout replacement, and I ask them to determine if the crack is just in the paint or the carbon – again, no problem for them to inspect and assess. And yes, the glue will be set sufficiently to start riding again the next day.

The next morning, we head straight to TVT, me nervously anticipating any other problems they may have found….and the bill. “All done – new dropout, new fork as it was a crack in the carbon, mais non, non, non….no charge. We admire two Anglais coming all the way to our Alps and battling our mountains, so it’s on the house. And while you’re here, would you like a tour of the factory?” Of course we would!!

Buoyed by this incredible customer service, we drive back into the Alps, through Grenoble and on up to Alpe d’Huez. Parking in our usual spot on a side road just down from the youth hostel, I set up workshop again, this time reassembling the whole bike from scratch. And when it’s all together, I jump on, test the brakes and steering quickly, and immediately launch into another full-on descent of the Alpe, hoping my mechanical skills have held up as I hurtle down at 55mph.

As I say, not particularly strange….just memorable! But TVT doesn't make bicycle frames any more.....
 
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España
Aye. I just hope I can convince him of that long enough to finish the training. His boss seems determined to discourage him.
That's a toughie.

I recall you posting previously about some issues between the two.

It can be tough to paint a big picture in young minds. There were many things when I was young that if someone could have painted a bigger, brighter picture than what I was seeing at the time, things might have been different.
(Specifically, I recall being coerced into learning to play the trumpet - not because I wanted to - because there was a trumpet in the house. Learning musical theory, listening to the very occasional orchestra piece was boring as hell, so eventually I dropped it with no repercussions because I was so bad. Never regretted it for 20 odd years until I saw Brice Springsteen & the Seeger Sessions Band live. There was a trumpet player who was having a blast - in every sense of the word! If someone had fired me up way back with that I never would have stopped.)

On the other hand, I had more than my fair share of crappy bosses, but I just dug in, said feck them, and extracted every last bit of marrow from the bone that I could. Inevitably, that was spotted by someone else and a job offer would roll along. There's a fair amount of satisfaction to be had watching your soon to be ex-boss squirming and trying to change your mind.^_^

If the Boss is a bit of a plonker then others in the business know that. If your son can manage that, come out the other side, others in the business will have a much better idea what your son is made of. It's intangible, but it's real.

Good luck - to the two of ye.
 
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