W
Werehatrack
Guest
Scene: It's about 11:30PM, I'm on the way to drop off some outbound
shipping at the Post Office (it goes out when it's ready), and the
cell phone rings. The daughter-unit reports that she's at our regular
bubble tea stop, and her friend's bike has a flat; she asks if I could
swing by and provide transport since it's late and she has no flat
repair stuff along. I figure, sure, why not; I'm driving the car that
has the bike racks anyway.
The flat tire is on an ancient Schwinn with roadie bars and an
Ashtabula crank. 5-speed. Heavy. Not a good sign, if I had been
thinking about it. I ask if the owner has a flat repair kit. He says
no. With a misplaced sense of confidence that a mere flat couldn't be
much more than a minor inconvenience to fix, I suggest that we stop by
the house, and I'll patch it. Sounds good to them.
We get home, I get the wheel off and grab the speed lever to slide the
tire over the bead. No go. The tire is stretched on so tight that
the hook of the speed lever won't even get under it. Okay, two
screwdrivers and much grunting later, the tire's off. It's marked as
a 26x1 1/4 for a 590 rim. I'm thinking "that can't be a 590 rim.
Waitaminute. I wonder, maybe it's an S6?" Check Sheldon Brown's
webpage and sure enough, there it is; Schwinn lightweights used 597
rims, designated S6. Rowrbazzle. No way I'm going to put this back
together as wrong as it was when it got here. Dig around in the parts
heap a bit and voila! An old EA3 dished rear with close-enough
spacing is unearthed. Toss a freewheel on it, tape the spokes, dig
out a tube from the recycle bin, throw the victim's own tire on it,
adjust things, and the bike's serviceable again.
I admonished the bike's owner that the front tire was every bit as
wrong as the rear for the rim that it was still on, but as I didn't
have another EA3 to swap, he was on his own for fixing that. I made
sure he took the old rear wheel along so that if he ever found some of
the right tires, it could be reinstalled. The mismatched front
lash-up was holding air for the moment anyway.
At least he knows what he's got, now.
--
Typoes are a feature, not a bug.
Some gardening required to reply via email.
Words processed in a facility that contains nuts.
shipping at the Post Office (it goes out when it's ready), and the
cell phone rings. The daughter-unit reports that she's at our regular
bubble tea stop, and her friend's bike has a flat; she asks if I could
swing by and provide transport since it's late and she has no flat
repair stuff along. I figure, sure, why not; I'm driving the car that
has the bike racks anyway.
The flat tire is on an ancient Schwinn with roadie bars and an
Ashtabula crank. 5-speed. Heavy. Not a good sign, if I had been
thinking about it. I ask if the owner has a flat repair kit. He says
no. With a misplaced sense of confidence that a mere flat couldn't be
much more than a minor inconvenience to fix, I suggest that we stop by
the house, and I'll patch it. Sounds good to them.
We get home, I get the wheel off and grab the speed lever to slide the
tire over the bead. No go. The tire is stretched on so tight that
the hook of the speed lever won't even get under it. Okay, two
screwdrivers and much grunting later, the tire's off. It's marked as
a 26x1 1/4 for a 590 rim. I'm thinking "that can't be a 590 rim.
Waitaminute. I wonder, maybe it's an S6?" Check Sheldon Brown's
webpage and sure enough, there it is; Schwinn lightweights used 597
rims, designated S6. Rowrbazzle. No way I'm going to put this back
together as wrong as it was when it got here. Dig around in the parts
heap a bit and voila! An old EA3 dished rear with close-enough
spacing is unearthed. Toss a freewheel on it, tape the spokes, dig
out a tube from the recycle bin, throw the victim's own tire on it,
adjust things, and the bike's serviceable again.
I admonished the bike's owner that the front tire was every bit as
wrong as the rear for the rim that it was still on, but as I didn't
have another EA3 to swap, he was on his own for fixing that. I made
sure he took the old rear wheel along so that if he ever found some of
the right tires, it could be reinstalled. The mismatched front
lash-up was holding air for the moment anyway.
At least he knows what he's got, now.
--
Typoes are a feature, not a bug.
Some gardening required to reply via email.
Words processed in a facility that contains nuts.