My dear old, very skilful dad, a joiner by trade, imprinted on me a couple of phrases which I have always thought very notable:
- The man who never made a mistake never made anything;
- If it ain’t broke don’t fix it.
I’m a strong believer in both and normally firmly follow the second. However …
Today we repeated our 7kms cycle trip into Salamanca. Since we already knew the way there were fewer wrong turnings. We set out after some domestic chores so were a little later and the bike park we had used was full but we found another. As it happened, our new bike park was just beneath the Museo Art Nouveau Art Deco Casa Lis. Quite a mouthful. Francine wanted to go in so that was our first port of call. Sadly, photos are not permitted inside so this is a photo of a poster showing the magnificent ceiling.
Whereas yesterday had been quite civilized, today was quite the opposite; large tour groups were wandering about and nearly every street had a road drill rattling away on it, which must have ruined some of the trade for the many restaurants with street tables. “Nice quiet lunch, dear?” I think not. Almost inevitably we gravitated back to the bar we had visited yesterday and enjoyed it once again, mercifully without the clatter of road drills.
And [lose 100 points] so to the interesting stuff but you’ll have to stick with me.
“My tyres seem a little soft”, proclaimed Francine, “though they do feel quite comfortable”. Hmmm. Once we had returned to Frodo, like an idiot I thought I might try to do something about it.
Here’s the irritating complication. The vast majority of bicycles like ours have Schrader valves on their tyres; these are the valves used on car tyres which could, if necessary, be inflated at a garage. Not Francine’s bike. Oh no! Francine’s bike, a Raleigh, has been fitted with Presta valves, racing bicycle type high-pressure jobs which cannot be inflated at a garage. Darwin knows why Raleigh made that decision on a leisure bicycle since the tyres have absolutely no need to run at high pressures (we’re talking 100psi or so).
Before I started meddling, however, Francine had spotted a delightful Irish couple with proper road bikes AND the all important large, manual high pressure pump. Mr. Irish sauntered along and added some pressure to Francine’s tyres. Happy camper, profuse thanks, tyres no longer “a bit soft”.
Presta valves cannot be inflated by my Michelin battery operated pump, lurking in Frodo’s “garage”. At least, not without an adapter, they can’t. I have an adapter but it is sadly back chez nous on my foot pump. How useful is that? Duh!
What I do have is a small emergency roadside fix pump which is a bugger to use but which fits both valve types. Nonetheless, Francine’s tyred now satisfactorily inflated, I thought I’d try it but on my bike, since, if it failed, I could resort to the Michelin battery job which does fit my bike’s tyre valves.
With me so far?
I tried to attach the small pump to my bike’s front wheel. No luck – air escaped. I tried again. More air escaped. How is this effing thing supposed to attach? Eventually my tyre was doing pancake impressions, completely flat.
I grabbed the Michelin electric pump; attachment no problem. I started the pump and the pressure began to climb. We’re looking for something like 50psi. While I was looking, at about 28psi there was an explosion like a rifle shot, waking up all grandads on their afternoon siesta, as the inner tube exploded and blew a section of my tyre off the wheel rim. The split in the inner tube was a good 7-8cms and ragged; this is not something a puncture repair kit could be used for.
Assuming that I had tyre levers and a repair kit, that is. I couldn’t find them, until Francine remembered an extra pocket in my pannier rucksack which I’d inconveniently forgotten. Senile, or what? OK tools located but repair still impossible. I needed a new inner tube.
A search revealed a bike shop about 5kms away. Francine gamely hopped on her steed, now complete with correctly inflated tyres, armed with my blown-up old inner tube in search of a replacement. I drank a beer. Hell, why not?
Francine returned about 30 minutes later with a new inner tube of, reportedly, the correct size. There’s a BUT; they only had one with an accursed Presta valve but we were assured it would work – the Schrader valve is thicker so the hole in the rim is a little larger. This wouldn’t work the other was around. Francine also returned with the required adapter to go from a Schrader pump to a Presta valve. That, at least, was a result, as they say.
I removed my front wheel and started fitting the tube. The tyre seemed a bit loose but all had been well originally so it must fit correctly somehow. I began inflating it. This should have been easy. It wasn’t, of course. At a mere 10psi or so, nowhere near running pressure, the tube was pushing the tyre bead off the tyre rim. I stopped, deflated and re-seated things to try again – same result, different section of unseated tyre bead. Further repeated attempts failed, I just could not make it work and began to suspect that the tube might be too fat. I’ve fixed many punctures and never had such a problem. I was bemused.
In desperation I tried riding on the low pressure before the bead parted company with the rim. I wondered if the pressure on the tyre produced by riding might seat the bead better. I added a little mor pressure and repeated my trip. I did the same thing again. Heck, this may be working, I was approaching operating pressure and was prepared to leave it at that.
Enter stage left: Mr Irish with his trusty pump.
He insisted on blowing my tyre up properly. Miracle of miracles, it worked. My trick of riding on the tyre appeared to have had the desired effect.
I now have a bike with a Schrader valve on the back wheel and a Presta valve on the front wheel but at least I have two inflated wheels.
All this had made afternoon disappear down a black hole. It was now gone 18:30 and I not only needed a shower but also had to make dinner. Dinner was to be an Arroz Negro with Calamares [Black Rice with Squid]. This is really a Squid Paella, the rice being blackened with Squid Ink. I managed to clean up enough to get it underway, then leave it simmering while I rushed off for a douche.
OK, black food may not be the most appealing visually but sod that, it tastes great.
What a day!
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