Darrell Waltrip first introduced me to the saying that, sadly, fits me better than OJ’s glove: He don’t know what he don’t know!
When it comes to bikes, that’s more true than ever, as I’ve shared with you time and again.
I’m constantly amazed at what little knowledge I’ve retained despite spending significant time in my career around the tech guru Lennard Zinn (I helped edit his first book armed with the perspective “if I can figure out what he’s saying, anyone can”), not to mention an army of racing team mechanics as well as shooting the shit with my local bike shop guys.
As I’ve also mentioned, I’m awfully proud of the Cannondale Lefty I snagged on craigslist, which has far exceeded its initial investment in pure joy.
After a particularly demanding July, not to mention more than a year since it had any work, I took it into my local shop. I figured I’d also go for new tires since, of course, I have no clue on whether I need new ones or not (See: here).
My bike shop guy showed me a couple tire replacements and, aha! Darrell was wrong this time! I pointed out to my mechanic that, well, those aren’t tubeless tires, and I have tubeless tires!
He proceeded to explain to me that, even though my rims say “tubeless” on them, he’s pretty sure these tires have tubes. He did a great job of explaining how he knew that, and why it was so. Unfortunately, the whole time my childlike brain kept saying, “but it says tubeless on the rim!”
I deferred, knowing full well sometime down the road I’ll have a flat, and I’ll be with someone, and I’ll say I gotta change it and pull out a tube and that person will say, whoa, those are tubeless, and I’ll laugh as that person laughs at me — these are the nightmare scenarios that race through my head endlessly.
Later that afternoon I get a call, and my bike guy says the tires he suggested won’t fit on the rear, so he asks if I approve a swap. Sure, whatever.
I arrive to pick up my bike and see it’s quite obvious that the front tire is much wider than the rear (although in reality it’s a 2.3 on the front and 2.1 on the rear). I assumed swap as in both tires. To he whom don’t know what he don’t know, it looks like a clown bike.
I take a deep breath knowing quite well that what he has done is probably exactly what he told me he would do and I, of course, approved that. He tries to reassure me by saying it makes sense to have a wider tire on front, for handling and such, and I’m looking for the cameras waiting for Robot and Padrig to jump out and tell me I’ve been punked for some TCI podcast or video.
I roll out and consider researching this wider front tire idea, seeing if it’s a hot new techie take or something. By the time I get to my truck, well, it is what it is. In other words, I don’t know …
After the first mile, everything feels grand. I spend most of my time on gravel and dirt, so it’s cool.
Then I hit the deep dusty sandy trails outside Sisters, and WOW! That front tire just plows right through and over that stuff like nothing! No more diggin’ in with the slightest turn. This is cool! This is great!
I just hope to hell no one asks me about it.
This week’s question: Have you ever had a revelation from a bike mechanic?
I got a job in a shop when I was 14, back in 1992 or so, to support my racing and riding habit. I was a green and eager kid, so pretty much my entire foundation about bikes were revelations from a bike mechanic. It’s hard to narrow it down but my favorite was from Don Kresin.
Don was a Korean War vet that had retired from the county recorder’s office and only assembled bikes in the dark dingy corner of the shop. He chain smoked GPC cigarettes and only ate PB&J sandwiches. Don never showered, and rarely washed his threadbare clothing, most of which were vintage cycling Cinelli and Campagnolo shirts that the hipster moustache set would go nuts for these days. Don had never driven a car in his life. He only rode road bikes, thought index shifting and aero style levers were stupid, and hated everything about modern bikes. “I don’t know why they do that, dumb motherfuckers…” He proved to be a pretty good teacher because he watched me like a hawk and when I was about to make a mistake he’d come over, cigarette in mouth, and very “frankly” show me the right way to do it. “Goddamn schoolboy mechanics….” He was a lovely man, in the tough love kind of way.
One of my favorite Don-isms, said with a mischevious grin and giggle:
“Never put anything in a dry hole”
Except a square taper BB spindle into a crankarm. Do that and you’d be getting a face full of second hand GPC smoke.