Philip White (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} philipmw) wrote,@ 2008-09-07 12:33:00 |
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I am le tired
Yesterday I managed to do what I've been putting off since April: I replaced the rear inner tube of my bicycle. It's been holey since about April, and between then and now the bike has been resting, dormant despite its great potential. "Do you really put off such trivial tasks for five months?," you may be asking. Well, dear reader, please understand: replacing the rear inner tube is one of the most disgusting tasks that my white-collar, starched, tender hands have ever had the displeasure of participating in.
Replacing rear inner tube is nothing like replacing the front. With the front, you quick-release the front wheel with one smooth motion, then with another fluid motion strip off the tire, and install a new tube before the old one even hits the ground. Then you dust off your hands and call it a day.
Unlike its unassuming sibling, the rear assembly requires a commitment and a sacrifice from the humble bike owner—that is, if the owner wants a well-maintained bicycle.
Specifically, the goddamn chain must come off.
And since the chain must come off, I figure I might as well clean it and the rear wheel's freewheel. First step: wield gripping pliers. I use gripping pliers to unscrew the bolts from both sides, allowing the rear wheel assembly to slide in the horizontal dropouts. At this point it might be obvious to remove the rear wheel while leaving the chain to mind its own business, but unfortunately this bicycle's dropouts are not long enough to permit this, so the chain must come off. Second step: prepare chemicals. I have a canister of liquid degreaser that calls to be mixed in a 1:5 ratio with water. I prepare this in a white salad bowl.
Third step: wield the aptly-named "chain tool"—a device I didn't know existed until my first rear-wheel flat. It takes about 846 words for the innertubes (specifically Wikipedia) to describe how to properly use this device. After I went to my local Kinko's and printed out the instructions for future reference—in case they updated the Wikipedia article since the last time I printed and laminated it—I went on to step 4.
Step 4 should be "do not touch the chain under any circumstances," but alas one has to hold the chain to apply the chainruletool. What this means for me: my hands are black with oil that has five trillion particles of dirt, microbes, and vicious amoeba. Here begins the arduous struggle of the white collar.
Now I put the chain, the rear wheel's axle, and my hands into the salad bowl. The smell of rotting flesh indicates that the chain and the axle are like new once again! While a nearby cat laps at the salad bowl, I replace the tube of the rear wheel with the practiced ease of... someone who's replacing the tube of the front wheel. See the top for how easy that is.
The whole time, I must strike a balance between thoroughly washing off the grease from my hands and in a vain effort to keep it from permeating things like tools and chemical bottles, and just deciding "eh, fuck it" and fingerpainting myself like an Injun.
Once all is done and it's time to reassemble these thinggies and make it one whole cohesive thing, the hardest part rears its head. That is: to restore the sanctity of the chain. I need to slide the metal pin back through the inner part of the link, taking care not to damage the chain permanently. Too much force when the inner part is not aligned with the outer, or too much force applied at an angle to the metal pin, and the battle is over: God:1, Philip:0. Fortunately, on my 48th attempt, the chain was restored.
For step N of N—this is the last step, by the way—I lightly applied oil to the chain assembly and the rear wheel's freewheel axle. All in all, I spent probably about 45 minutes yesterday to prepare my bike for another nine months of riding. I was tired, but the effort was well worth it. This morning I cruised to the Corporate Challenge 15K bike race1 in style, all hip on my shiny bicycle. The clouds disappeared and there was peace in the world.
Footnote 1: I didn't actually compete in the race; I was one of the volunteers to block vehicle traffic across the race path.
Yesterday I managed to do what I've been putting off since April: I replaced the rear inner tube of my bicycle. It's been holey since about April, and between then and now the bike has been resting, dormant despite its great potential. "Do you really put off such trivial tasks for five months?," you may be asking. Well, dear reader, please understand: replacing the rear inner tube is one of the most disgusting tasks that my white-collar, starched, tender hands have ever had the displeasure of participating in.
Replacing rear inner tube is nothing like replacing the front. With the front, you quick-release the front wheel with one smooth motion, then with another fluid motion strip off the tire, and install a new tube before the old one even hits the ground. Then you dust off your hands and call it a day.
Unlike its unassuming sibling, the rear assembly requires a commitment and a sacrifice from the humble bike owner—that is, if the owner wants a well-maintained bicycle.
Specifically, the goddamn chain must come off.
And since the chain must come off, I figure I might as well clean it and the rear wheel's freewheel. First step: wield gripping pliers. I use gripping pliers to unscrew the bolts from both sides, allowing the rear wheel assembly to slide in the horizontal dropouts. At this point it might be obvious to remove the rear wheel while leaving the chain to mind its own business, but unfortunately this bicycle's dropouts are not long enough to permit this, so the chain must come off. Second step: prepare chemicals. I have a canister of liquid degreaser that calls to be mixed in a 1:5 ratio with water. I prepare this in a white salad bowl.
Third step: wield the aptly-named "chain tool"—a device I didn't know existed until my first rear-wheel flat. It takes about 846 words for the innertubes (specifically Wikipedia) to describe how to properly use this device. After I went to my local Kinko's and printed out the instructions for future reference—in case they updated the Wikipedia article since the last time I printed and laminated it—I went on to step 4.
Step 4 should be "do not touch the chain under any circumstances," but alas one has to hold the chain to apply the chain
Now I put the chain, the rear wheel's axle, and my hands into the salad bowl. The smell of rotting flesh indicates that the chain and the axle are like new once again! While a nearby cat laps at the salad bowl, I replace the tube of the rear wheel with the practiced ease of... someone who's replacing the tube of the front wheel. See the top for how easy that is.
The whole time, I must strike a balance between thoroughly washing off the grease from my hands and in a vain effort to keep it from permeating things like tools and chemical bottles, and just deciding "eh, fuck it" and fingerpainting myself like an Injun.
Once all is done and it's time to reassemble these thinggies and make it one whole cohesive thing, the hardest part rears its head. That is: to restore the sanctity of the chain. I need to slide the metal pin back through the inner part of the link, taking care not to damage the chain permanently. Too much force when the inner part is not aligned with the outer, or too much force applied at an angle to the metal pin, and the battle is over: God:1, Philip:0. Fortunately, on my 48th attempt, the chain was restored.
For step N of N—this is the last step, by the way—I lightly applied oil to the chain assembly and the rear wheel's freewheel axle. All in all, I spent probably about 45 minutes yesterday to prepare my bike for another nine months of riding. I was tired, but the effort was well worth it. This morning I cruised to the Corporate Challenge 15K bike race1 in style, all hip on my shiny bicycle. The clouds disappeared and there was peace in the world.
Footnote 1: I didn't actually compete in the race; I was one of the volunteers to block vehicle traffic across the race path.
