Zen and the Art of Bicycle Maintenance

Mike the Mechanic I’m not, and this afternoon’s – scenario – may have been my fault (read: haven’t put air in my tires/oiled my chain/any other form of bike maintenance since Christmas when I connived Dan into doing it for me…), but seriously people: how many barangs does it take to change a bike tire? Right. So, this morning I woke up and hauled myself into the “office,” a.k.a. my self-appointed folding table and plastic chair at SC, to do a little work. When I hopped on my trusty 24-speed to ride back for lunch, I noticed a strange schlump-schump sound coming from the back tire. I had the sickening sensation of déjà-vu as I realized it sounded exactly the way my car tire did when Gray, Lorraine, and I blew a flat on the way to Montreal … except there’s no AAA in this country.
At this point it was already 11:45, my wallet was at the house so I couldn’t make a pit stop to have it fixed, and it was at least 100 degrees. Did I mention I was hungry? That being said, I decided there was really nothing to do besides bike back and have some lunch. And a nap. And then worry about the bike tire. Biking with a flat turned what should have been a 10 minute ride into 30, and by the time I got back to the house I was literally dripping sweat. Dripping.

I camouflaged the bike in my host family’s bushes as not to attract attention and hurried upstairs for lunch. The thing is, I have a mountain bike. Most Cambodians – host family included – ride beach cruisers so anything with more than two gears is a great mystery. I'm not saying I know more about bike maintenance than your average Cambodian, but I'm skeptical sometimes … especially after the screws on my bike rack mysteriously “disappeared” while I was out of town one weekend, the batteries on my tail light have “fallen out” in their bike shed on more than one occasion, and almost all my pink streamers have been shredded due to excessive petting. When I finally pulled myself out of bed and away from my book, I knew I needed a plan. Peace Corps supplies us with all the necessary goodies to fix a flat, but I’ll be damned if I know what to do with them. I mean, do you know what to do to with a hexagon wrench and new bike tube? (Don’t answer that, Stephen).

As I swerved my way back across town, I had a brilliant idea. We have three 17 year old boys from Utah volunteering at SC for a few months. Time to in call the backup. Surely between the four of us we could figure this out. I frantically texted Scott and asked if he knew hot to fix a flat. A painful mile and a half later, we were standing in SC’s courtyard trying to figure out how to get the back wheel off. He was pretty sure his dad showed him how to do this once upon a time and I was pretty sure we learned this during Technical Training but you know, there really are an awful lot of pieces back there. Once the tire was off, we (and by “we” I mean Scott) realized I hadn’t brought the thing to loosen the rubber casing over the tubing. No, a hexagon wrench won’t do. Neither will a stick. Or my keys. We struggled for a good 25 minutes before we swallowed our pride and took it to the mechanic shop next door. I’d like to say our main reason for delay was because it was torrentially raining. It was torrentially raining, but I’m sure we all know better. Seriously, though, how difficult is changing a flat? (Again, don’t answer that, Stephen).

Naturally, the Cambodian fellow had the casing off, tubing out, new tubing in, tire inflated, and put back together in less than 3 minutes. Scott and I did manage to get the tire back on the bike ourselves (after some logistical confusion about exactly where the bike chain went), and inflated the front tire for good measure. All in all the whole process took up the better part of my early afternoon. I did contribute – albeit marginally – and think I’d be able to change a flat on my own in the future. Well, ok, I’ll probably just take it straight to the mechanic, but I’ll be all set as management material next time now that I know what the process should look like.

… And some of you thought I might actually be going native out here?? Har har.