Crankology

Folding bike, bruised ego

As I’ve observed in these pages in the past, friends don’t let friends ride recumbent bikes. Friends do, however, let friends ride folding bikes, provided such friends can convincingly argue that the utility of the “foldie” outweighs the downside of being seen on a bike equipped with clown-size wheels and a seatpost long enough to double as a flagpole.

It turns out that friends should never offer to do mechanical work on said foldie, lest they fall victim to hubris. My reputation in the amateur/unpaid bike mechanic scene is ruined for now and may never recover. I hope that by sharing my story, I can save you from a similar fate.

I’ll tell you what happened, but first a bit of context and backstory.

I’ve always done my own mechanical work on all my bikes. Not only do I enjoy the challenge of learning how all the parts function, I’ve also found that even the best bike shops provide inconsistent service. I have a great local shop. The owners know their stuff, but the same can’t always be said for the kids actually doing the wrenching in the shop basement. I’m sure they try their best, but the results are often lacking.

Also, no bike mechanic cares as much about my bikes as I do. Certainly none is willing to put in the time that I’m prepared to invest in order to optimize their performance.

Finally, it’s enormously satisfying to do the work oneself and to enjoy the result: a silent steed, clean and fast with all components working in perfectly calibrated harmony (with the likely exception of the rider).

But back to the foldie, that killer of my illusions of mechanical know-how. It belongs to my friend Leon. Leon called me up a couple of weeks ago and told me the shifting on the internal-gear hub had stopped working. I didn’t even wait for him to finish describing the problem before I cut him off to declare that this would be an easy fix.

“Even if I can’t figure it out myself, someone will have clear instructions on Youtube. No worries. I expect it will be about a 30-minute job,” I said, strutting around my workshop and winking at my handsome reflection in the glass of my mobile phone.

“Are you sure?” he asked, sounding a bit surprised at my utter lack of humility.

“Of course,” I replied. “I’ve done a lot more complicated work on a ton of bikes in the past. This is just a cable change. How hard can that be?”

At this point, whatever mysterious force that runs the universe must have overheard me and decided to teach me a lesson.

The problems began when I tried to unfold the bike. It had an infographic printed on the top tube showing a simple three-step process. For me, however, this became a 10-step process that required three phone calls to Leon and several visits to the Internet to complete. I should have known that this reverse bicycle origami was only the start of my troubles.

I managed to remove the damaged cable without any issue, but I made the mistake of not taking any photos along the way. My crime of not documenting the scene meant that when I tried to insert the new cable through the shifter body and into the cable housing, it wouldn’t co-operate. I clearly had the shifter in the wrong position, but after about an hour of trying every combination I could deduce, I was no closer to success.

I’ve learned from past temper tantrums that it’s best not to freak out in situations like this. That only ends in tears (usually mine). So instead of acting out my rageful fantasy of setting the bike on fire and throwing it over my back fence, I decided to fold it up and admit defeat.

But now – and this shouldn’t be a surprise – I couldn’t figure out how to fold it back up. The operation an abject failure, I conceded defeat and glumly placed the bike in a semi-accordion state back in my shed. I trudged back into my house and called Leon. He could pick it up.

Ever the loyal friend, Leon thanked me for my efforts and dropped it off at his local bike shop, where he tells me some underpaid teenager got it all sorted out in about 15 minutes.

I said earlier that no bike mechanic cares as much about my bikes as I do. That remains true. What I’ve learned here is that I don’t care at all about anyone else’s bike, especially if it’s a foldie.

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