I don't fix things; that's not my calling yet, but I think I am learning the art. What I know that I haven't quite mastered but suspect is actually the case... is this: fixing things takes a certain amount of zen and focus. The kind that people don't necessarily pay you for, and I think, more than being organized. But organization might be a good starting point. Deeper than well-marshalled supplies are the meticulous things -- an eye for the elements of whatever needs to be fixed, and the care and dedication required to fix something to last.
For example, and at that, an over-simplified example and a metaphor significant maybe only to me -- fixing a flat bicycle tire. What one needs is time and space. Because if you aren't yet a fixing things master of bicycle inner tubes, and you try to throw a patch on a tube, one or several disappointing outcomes are likely: a leaking patch, a pinched valve, or maybe just failure to remove your tire -- especially if your first flat change is on a road bike! Any kind of failure you can imagine is possible and success, I feel, revolves around, well that's just it. One must be zen. One must revolve around the situation for a bit, hover, pause, before zooming in, focusing... call it planning? Plan for time to remove the wheel from the bike and then the tire from the wheel. Depending on your bicycle, plan for the tire irons -- so-called little plastic levers that aid in this step of removal, and take it from me -- substitutions don't really pay off here. Use a metal screwdriver or try both ends of a fork? A keychain bottle cap-remover? Brute strength and bent fingernails? You will likely end up with more holes in your tube or rug-burns. So using the proper tools, should you need them, remove the tire. And be careful of the valve stem. Begin there, so as to avoid tearing your tube near the valve stem. Mince around that area and what's great about the tire removal step is this -- once you get the tire to budge a little bit, the rest is a breeze. And while we are on the subject, you might as well plan for the quiet and fresh air when you are learning. I'm inspired to write by this beautiful spring weather. Know the little parts-- like a special ring that holds your tube valve to the wheel rim-- you might need to unscrew one of these before you remove the tube. And once you have done so, plan for some kind of water source, and have your pump handy. Know the little screw on the presta valve tip that must be opened to pump air into a tube. Know the difference between presta and schraeder, the latter being like the car tire valves. Know if your pump accomodates both valves, and either way, fill the tube with air and listen and feel for the puncture. If the puncture can't be spotted, submerge your inflated tube in a calm water bath and simply look for bubbles! Why do you need a certain amount of zen for such a task? Well, the marshalling of resources, the marshalling of strength. It's time to center yourself and carry out a thankless kind of task. What is a bicycle? Is it your necessary means of transport? Then you might feel something more satisfying but still, patching a tube is a quiet accomplishment. No one will know how long you've made that inner tube last on band aids. No one knows how much you love your bike but you. And it's not clear that your bike knows how much you love it. It's probable that most people you encounter have some experience fixing things. And can understand the ins and outs of sacrifice and energy. What we put in... Once you've found your hole and dried the tube, maybe circled the hole with the little chalk that's sometimes included in the patch kit, this is where zen really becomes a factor. Find a clean work area, and know you have plenty of time to devote the right amount of time to each step of the process, even when the steps just require minutes. 30 seconds to dry the glue on the roughened surface. 2 minutes to let the patch sit before the patch will hold. Glue on a surface wider than that of the patch. Apply glue in an even, thin, yet generous layer. Dust out your tire to prepare for re-assembly, making sure the leak wasn't caused by dislodged debris inside the tire. A bike is simple like a fishing pole. It demands your fitness like a dog and ends up rewarding your spirit in return. It needs love and care like yourself. Better stored with a roof over its head so the frame won't rust and the tires wont rot... and the cables and shifters, sprockets and bearings. If you're just starting out, take these many components for granted and just get your bike to a shop for a tune-up when it starts to feel like a chore to ride. But while you are there, maybe making your purchase -- get the patch kit; get the chain grease. That's where every bike-owner can begin. And a bicycle, with its simplicity, on a campus, when you just have to get to class-- there's nothing more magical. A starting place for the way I think about independence, and maybe now, a heavier symbol for the burden of independence. My first grown-up bicycle, gray and steady. Is that irony or a fallacy? I don't think so!
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AuthorWe are Kieran and Michelle, two 32-year-old William & Mary grads living in Virginia. Archives
March 2024
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