Mostly Harmless

Fringe benefits of the smoking ban

After confidently asserting to a colleague yesterday that it would be a "dry crisp night for cycling" I walked out to the cycle lockers in a thin drizzle. "Well," I thought, "at least it's not snowing."

As I left the woods near Lake Guillemont it began to sleet steadily and I lost contact with my finger ends. I got these back some miles later by making alternate fists on the handle bars as I went along (old trick). Then the sleet became heavy rain and in the darkest part of my journey, about eleven miles out, I heard a rhythmical tsk tsk tsk from the rear wheel as it began jetting its precious cargo of compressed air into the surface water.

It was flat inside a minute. This is the closest I have come to calling for backup on one of these commutes and I had this strongly in mind as I carried the bike to the nearest easily recognizable junction. But just then a pub came into view. And, of course, like most pubs these days it had a large, well lit awning outside for the use of those who are conscientiously hardening their lungs against the possibility of environmental catastrophe in the shape of huge tobacco volcanoes.

So I snuck in right under that welcome protection - it even had heating! - and started fishing out my spare inners. From time to time an old buffer would emerge from the pub for a bit of lung-hardening and give a sort of running commentary on my progress. "Ah! I see you've partially inflated (puff) the inner tube (wheeze gasp) - I don't do that. Mind you I ride a Vincent Rapide 500cc... (wistful sigh)." In my haste to get home I bust the first inner with a tyre lever - never done that before... So I put the second one on with thumbs only. "Ah! I see you've set the tyre without the use of levers (pant). Make sure you wash your hands before you leave (long drag) as dirt inside the gloves may compromise their thermal properties..."

On some more clement evening I may stop off their for a pint. But as I pulled away last night it began at last to snow heavily and I lost contact with my finger ends again. But it has been a useful lesson. Even out of season, pub patios can join the list of impromptu repair shops for waylaid cyclists.

Posted at 10:32AM Oct 29, 2008 by John Alderson in Get on yer Bike  |  Comments[0]