In Which Six Miles Ends When Bike Repair Fails

Wire stuck in back tyre of hybrid bike.

Patch on tyre tube.

New tyre installed.

What a difference a day makes!

Despite rain in the forecast, none actually fell today, although it was cloudy, windy and much cooler than yesterday. I spent some time midday fixing the flat tyre on the hybrid bike. As it turned out, I mistakenly got the wrong tube—the hybrid bike, unlike the road bike, has the older, fatter valve, and I had gotten the right sized tube, but with the wrong valve.

So I decided to try a patch. When I looked at the tyre, there was a small wire stuck in it—so my theory that I was merely unlucky may not be so. Months after our big storm, random bits of metal are probably more common the mean streets of Cedar Rapids.

Well, I took the old tube out, and placed it in water in the kitchen sink. I found the leak fairly quickly. It was small, so I thought a patch would work. I applied said patch, reassembled the bike and aired it up. I decided to let it sit for a while as a test, and so went on a shopping errand with my wife before, about 3 p.m., pulling the hybrid bike out of the garage. The new tyre was still inflated, so I felt pretty good.

I decided to do my delayed Marion trail inspection. I had read in the local paper that the south end of a nearby trail, cut off from me by a construction project, was now paved, and I wanted to see that.

Riding towards downtown Marion on 11th Street. Rumble, rumble, rumble.

I rode through the town of Marion, stopping at the cute art alley downtown for some image making and to check the tyre, which seemed to be doing fine.

Downtown Marion. The coffee shop is closed Sunday afternoon, but I like their bike decoration out front.

Art alley in downtown Marion, this and next two images.

 

 

Then I rode down Grand Avenue to get to the trail—which was closed. So I backtracked and rode via streets to Hanna Park. The Boyson Trail was open, but very rough. While the limestone surface was dry, it was pockmarked with tyre tracks and footprints from when it was recently mushy.

I crossed Indian Creek and the trail ended where it branches to go to Menards. There was indeed new pavement, on a closed stretch of the trail. Well, the trail inspection did not end with the hoped for ride on a new surface—but it’s good to see this paving, a promise of smooth future rides. That surface will sure beat the limestone.

I made some images and then got ready to leave—but wait. The back tyre. At the end of 6 miles, it was suddenly again flat. I don’t know if it was punctured on the rough limestone surface or the rough passage proved too much for the new patch, but there you have it, a flat.

South end of trail--which is not open. They are paving it, I assume.

I hop off bike to make image of end of pavement, which I do not ride on. In this image, it appears to me that the back tyre is inflated. A few minutes later, after I shot a few more images, it was flat.

Flat back tyre at Hanna Park. I walked back there to await rescue.

I had originally planned to possibly head across town to the Grant Wood Trail, but instead called my wife again for a rescue.

So yesterday I claimed the slow pace of the ride was due to the slow bike—but today’s ride was slower. Of course, it was all in town, and in-town miles, which their frequent stops and starts, are always slower.

Then again, maybe yesterday it was the rider than the bike that was the slow one ….

Pi Day ride. Was rescued, went home and ate pie.

In Which 25 Miles Ends in an Urbana Flat

Saw several of these signs on Cedar Valley Nature Trail. 

At about 5 p.m. Sunday, I texted my wife. I don’t recall the exact wording, and I’m too lazy to go find my phone, but the message was about whether I should turn around or push on to Urbana.

I had left home about 3, ridden up the Brentwood Drive hill twice, and then headed north on the Cedar Valley Nature Trail.

“Push on to Urbana,” my wife texted back, or something like that. So, I did.

They are doing some project along the Cedar Valley Nature Trail, there was lots of places on the trail that have loose rock, and new electric poles have been put in north of Center Point. It was warm and nice, but very quiet past Center Point—unlike the Hiawatha end of the trail where there were many bikers. Now, I was in the countryside alone.

Trail north of Center Point--a little barren looking where vegetation was cleared as new electric poles were put in. Beautiful day for a bike ride.

I had originally planned to go to Center Point, and with the Brentwood Hill climbs tossed in, maybe make it to 30 miles or so. Adding the leg to Urbana would make the ride more than 40, possibly pushing 50, although it would also mean it would be pretty late by the time I got back home.

On the other hand, I’d been fighting wind most of the way to Center Point, and that headwind would become a back wind to speed me home. But, as I went north of Center Point, it got worse. The trail conditions got softer, the wind got stiffer and more in my face, and my speed, which had been around 14 to 15 mph most of the way, dropped to 10 or below. I began to doubt if I would make it to Urbana.

But then I shot through the tunnel under Interstate 380, and realized I didn’t have far to go. I haven’t been to Urbana a lot, but I remembered there wasn’t a ton of miles between I-380 and that Benton County village.

But, as I pushed on, the trail seemed to become even mushier. And a voice in the back of my mind began to question if it was all the trail. Sometimes, when a bike ride gets harder and “mushier,” it simply means there’s a problem with your rear tyre.

I could see the Urbana water tower, however, so I pushed on. And when I stopped at the park, I felt the rear tyre.

End of the ride for Argent. Bike rack in park in Urbana. You may not be able to see it, but trust me--the rear tyre is flat.

Mush. I thought about trying to ride back south before it got flatter, but as soft as it was, that didn’t seem like a good option. At least I was in a town, so I phoned my wife, and she and my daughter and grandson were out shopping and agreed to swing by to pick me up. (No, they were not shopping in Urbana—they had never been to Urbana before—but since they were already out, it wasn’t too hard to hop on I-380 and drive a few miles north to pick me up. Urbana is a challenging bike ride, but not so much in the way of a drive.)

Did you know a robin can yell
with a worm in its beak? Trust me.

I had about half an hour alone in the park, other than two Urbana urchins who were riding a scooter and bike. I photographed my bike, and wasted a few minutes photographing the flag in the park. I wasn’t very serious about it—I liked the light, but trying to catch a waving flag in a good pose on a windy day is tougher than it sounds. Check the end of this post and see what you think, but honestly I only shot a dozen or so images. If I was serious and had a good camera, I would have shot 100 and gotten a good one.

I checked my tyre now and then, and confirmed the wisdom of the phone call—the tyre quickly went all the way flat. If I had tried to ride south, I merely would have stranded myself somewhere more obscure than Urbana.

Well, the rescue squad came. They even wanted to go to Culver’s for supper, which was not a bad deal. I’ll get new tyres (both are worn) and a new tube tomorrow, and then I will get my lone bicycle back in riding shape.

Glad I charged up my cell phone before the ride!

And next time I want to aim for 50 miles on my bicycle, I think I’ll turn around at Schultz Road and head south. Argent is clearly meant for pavement.

Old Glory in Urbana. Windy day for a ride, and I never got the benefit of the wind aiding me.

In Which Flowers Help Ease the Pain of Emptyness

Bike. Anonymous other biker passes by my bike, which has a rare flat tyre.

A flat tyre! On only the third ride!

The unnamed new bike cannot be ridden at the moment. On Father’s Day, my youngest son, wife and I went out at about 10:30 for a bicycle ride. A muggy, but nice and sunny, ride.

I could do whatever I wanted to do that day. What I wanted to do was ride my new bicycle.

We again used the Cedar River Trail, and again went south, because I stubbornly wanted to find the detour. If you read the previous post, you know that I wondered were the trail detour went after it took you east to Council Street, where it appears it wanted you to go back west.

The apparent answer was oddly comical. The detour leads back to Center Point Road. So it goes all the way a half mile east to Council and then doubles back so that it can have you cross 42nd Street at a corner with a “walk” light, which is commendable, I suppose. Except that there is also a walk light at Center Point Road. Why not just cross there—why the pointless ride east to Council Street to get a walk sign that was available way back there? Bikers wonder.

Anyway, I don’t know how far the detour goes along Center Point Road, because when we got to the New Pioneer Coop, we knew we could cross the street and head up a little side street to the trail. So we did. And right as we started to ride on that little side street, that’s when I noticed my back tyre was flat.

And the tyre was not a little flat. Not a “pump it up every few miles and keep going” flat, although we didn't have a frame pump with us anyway. I’m talking an empty void, totally hollow, flabby and useless, like a Donald Trump campaign speech.

So the son and the spouse headed back north to go get our van and rescue me, while I locked the crippled What Are We Going To Call It to a bench.

To pass the time, I photographed flowers. It doesn't seem like a particularly flowery time of year, but in a short stroll near the bench were the crippled bike was locked, I found quite a variety to photograph.

Milkweed in bloom, and vertical, too.
Why Blogger, why?

I was on a mission, of sorts. I wanted to find Milkweed, which is in bloom now, and I also wanted to take a cute photo of a baby Monarch Butterfly.

There is Milkweed along the Cedar River trail, but none near the bench were my bike rested. (MMU bike club, what should be done about that?) However, I spied a patch growing adjacent to a nearby parking lot, so part of my mission was fulfilled. Sadly, there were no caterpillar sightings, nor did I see a chrysalis, although I don’t know for sure if I would recognize one. (Then again, given the size of Monarch Caterpillars, the chrysalis should be pretty big).

Oh well. Better luck next time. And I don’t aspire to collect flat tyres (in case you’re wondering, I just like and use the British spelling on this blog because they invented the bike tyre and ought to be allowed to name it), but I guess practice changing tyres on my RAGBRAI bike may prove of value.

We were planning to go kayaking later anyway, and we did. And here are the other flowers or berries:

In Which the Beast Rescues Some Winter Rides

Later Sunday afternoon--the 20-minute tube change turned into a 90-minute saga, but at the end, I did have a winter beater bike to ride. New lights were easy to swap to new bike, too.

Well, darn. The flat tyre on Frances is still flat. I had a spare tube, but when I installed it on Sunday, it turned out the valve was defective.

So on the warmest, sunniest day so far in our little warm spell, I had no bike. I was also busy so I didn't have a lot of time, either. But I had planned to go to the gym and planned to bike there.

Then, I had a bright idea. I can’t ride The Beast because it has some broken spokes. What if I put the pedals from The Beast on Jon’s bike? A little voice said the pavement might be damp—I do not want to expose Fancy Bike to any rust—but I tried.

Perhaps fortunately, The Beast refused to relinquish its pedals.

Then I had bright idea number two:My wife’s bike is the same brand and same size as The Beast. It’s a lady bike, but the back wheel doesn't seem gender specific. Would her wheel fit The Beast?

Yes. Don’t tell her, but The Beast is now a Frankenbike and can again be ridden. I rode it Sunday both to the gym and to and from campus, and also commuted with it on Monday.

It was always my plan for The Beast to be my “winter beater” bike. It was cold Monday night when I was going home, and the pavement was a bit damp--scary sparkly in places in the way damp pavement gets when it gets dangerous to bike on.

So I was pretty happy to be on a ridiculous old Schwinn mountain bike rather than my regular commuting bike, let alone my son’s fancy bike.

On Tuesday and Wednesday I drove—weather is too misty for biking, with possible snow. But I am happy that I now have a winter beater!

By the way, I drafted this post during a workshop on shared Google Docs documents in Busse Library at Mount Mercy. One of the other classmates commented: You need to get a windshield for your bike! :)