Fools, Children & Recumbent Riders

Someone once wrote that God takes care of fools and little children.

He surely also has a soft spot in His heart for at least two recumbent tandem bicycle riders, as proven by the events of this morning.

MLB and I set out on our usual Saturday morning bike ride, enjoying the relatively cool and calm weather. We headed out on our usual route, which winds through about three miles of residential streets before leaving the city limits on the service road of a well-traveled state highway. As we were passing through the last few blocks of housing, we spotted another recumbent rider. He was going the opposite direction but made a u-turn and pedaled to catch up to us.

Now, while we’re always happy to visit with folks about recumbents, we actually prefer riding alone or riding in the company of friends.

This morning, we were engaged in a conversation and didn’t really want to interrupt it to make small talk with a stranger, even if he was a kindred ‘bent spirit. So we kept up our pedaling cadence and made him work to catch up with us. We exchanged a few pleasantries and he observed that we were in a bigger hurry than he was, and he dropped back.

We didn’t feel badly, because we immediately overtook another cyclist — another recumbent cyclist, no less — and he and the first fellow seemed to be riding at the same speed. Surely they would be able to converse to their heart’s content.

It’s important to understand that recumbent cyclists, while not unknown in these parts, are still a bit rare, and to pass two in short order is almost unheard of. (And, in fact, we spotted another one across the divided highway, heading back into town, just a few hundred yards down the road after our encounter with the first two.) If you care about such things, the first cyclist was riding a Vision, which is a short wheelbase model, and it has underseat steering like our Ryan Duplex tandem. The second rider was on a Rotator, a somewhat rarer model with a long wheelbase and above-the-seat steering like my Easy Racer single recumbent.

Anyway, within about 15 minutes we had left the two riders a mile behind. That’s when the unexpected happened: a loud hissing sound emanated from the front of our bicycle and we knew immediately that it meant a flat tire.

Now, the only thing rarer than passing two ‘bents on a ride in west Texas is for us to have a flat tire on our tandem. We’ve owned it for six years, and this was the first flat we’d experienced on the front tire. We’d had a couple on the back tire, but it had been several years since those had occurred.

You can see this coming, can’t you? After six years without a flat tire, you get a little complacent. Well, I do, anyway. I wasn’t carrying a spare tube. We had several patch kits with us, so it looked like I’d have to fix the flat instead of just doing a quick change of tubes.

We had just passed an underpass when the flat occurred, so I wheeled the bike around and walked it back to get us out of the sun. I removed the wheel while MLB held the front end of the bike off the ground, and then I ran a tire tool around both beads and pulled the tire and tube away from the rim.

While I was inspecting the tube, the easier-riding cyclists rode into view. They spotted us and immediately turned off the road and headed our way, with offers to help. I explained our predicament…it wasn’t serious, thanks anyway, just one of those things…but they wanted to stick around just to make sure.

So they chatted with MLB about our bike and theirs while I affixed our tire pump onto the tube, intending to inflate it to find the location of the hole. All the while, I had this nagging little thought: what if it’s the valve stem? I’d been having trouble with my floor pump over the past couple of months. The rubber grommet (or whatever you call the doohicky that goes over the valve) wasn’t sealing properly and I had to work it around on the valve to get an airtight connection. I worried that I was somehow damaging the valve stem by rubbing it against the edge of the hole where it emerged from the rim. But, had I worried enough to (a) buy a new pump or (b) closely inspect the valve stems

That would be a “no,” and another “no.”

Sure enough, the hissing repeated itself from the base of the stem. Verdict: unfixable with anything I had on hand. That’s when the guy riding the Rotator spoke up. “That’s a 20″ wheel, isn’t it?” “Yeah,” I replied. “Well, I’ve got an extra tube with me, if you want it.”

Let’s see…we’re eight miles from home with a 10′ long bike — meaning that very few good samaritan vehicles could haul us back into town — and we have no way of correcting the mechanical problem brought on by my stupidity. I would normally have refused to take another cyclist’s only backup tube, but in this case, I immediately said “we’ll take it!”

It was at that point that I noticed that his rims were drilled for Presta valves, and ours took the more familiar Schraeder valves. OK, that’s not a problem. The Prestas are smaller in diameter so they’ll still fit; we’d have been hosed had it been the other way around.

Then I happened to glance down at my rim, and the decal bearing the number 18 finally sunk into my addled brain. “Oh, man…we don’t have a 20″ wheel; it’s 18″!”

“Well,” the guy replied, “that’s not necessarily a problem. You might be able to make a 20″ tube work on an 18″ rim. There’ll be some loose play, but it should still get you back into town.” Again, had it been the other way around, it’s doubtful that I could have made a smaller tube fit on a larger rim.

I quickly mounted the tube and tire and started pumping air. The tube inflated quickly, another pleasant surprise, since I had never had occasion to use our frame-mounted tire pump (see, I hadn’t gone out totally unprepared). It proved to be a very efficient piece of equipment.

I noticed the tire bulging a bit in one spot, doubtless because of the way the tube was doubled up in places, so I let out some air, massaged the tire and tube and reinflated it. The bulge was gone. I didn’t feel comfortable inflating it to a normal pressure, which would be at least 80 psi, as I was unsure of the effect on the ill-fitting tube.

On the other hand, an underinflated tube has two significant drawbacks. First, it’s susceptible to pinch flats, meaning that the tube gets pinched against the rim when you roll over a rock or even a bump in the road. Second, it makes the bike handling really squirrelly.

However, I figured we’d be going slow enough back into town to mitigate both those risks. I put an estimated 40 psi in the tire and we mounted the bike for the trip back home.

The guy who donated his tube (OK, I insisted on giving him $5, although he was perfectly willing to let me have the tube) was going to continue his ride. The other fellow decided to head back to town with us. This time, we were quite content to mosey along and converse about rides and bicycles. Our tandem was a little loose on the front end, but nothing too scary, and the tube seemed to be holding air just fine. Our companion stayed with us until we were back inside the city limits, when I insisted that he go back to the route he had intended to ride before we messed things up. We parted company with a smile and a wave, and we made it back home without further incident. I trust that Tom (the tube donor) and Kent (the escort) did as well.

It’s amazing to consider the happy “coincidences” that occurred to bail us out of our predicament. There are lots of cyclists on the road we were on, but only a recumbent, with its smaller front wheel, could have helped us. The fact that the other riders stopped at all might seem a little odd, depending on where you’re from, but it’s a given in this part of the country, as was the willingness to share what was needed to help. Still, I couldn’t help but sense that Divine intervention was protecting us from my lack of preparation.

You might think I’m silly to view it that way, and that’s fine. I still find it interesting to note that a few minutes after our bike was safely parked in our garage that the front tire went completely flat.