Fixing a Hole in the Ocean

"Fixing a hole in the ocean
trying to make a dovetail joint
. . . .
here's a clue for you all
the Walrus was Paul."

John Lennon, Looking Through a Glass Onion

Early yesterday afternoon I decided to clean the chain on my bike, knock off the bike trail grit and do a general cleaning, in anticipation of the upcoming Centurion. Once that was done, I flicked through the shifts and was shocked -- shocked! -- to see that the chain was rubbing on the front derailleur cage when it was on both lowest sprockets. This meant, I decided, that when I was in lowest gear, I was not only risking damage, but also probably losing energy. Maybe, I thought with a touch of hope, that's why the last ride was so hard. Maybe, I fretted, the chain is stretched, or the derailleur hopelessly bent. Maybe there won't be time enough to get it fixed before Sunday.

I got out the old Richard's Bicycle Book and checked out derailleur repairs and adjustments, but no easy fix presented itself. I considered toying with it, but time is short and anyway the last thing I wanted was to mess things up and not find out until on the ride. So I talked son Daniel into a trip to the bike shop -- bribed him by promising to stop at the library -- and trundled off to good ol' Budget. We stood in line for about 10 minutes, when the mechanic came out, a young, lanky man with a wiry black beard, frame glasses, and a tall Cat-in-hat stocking cap. He listened and had us follow him back to a bikestand. When I explained my concern, he sounded a bit incredulous.

"No, really," I said. "I don't doubt you," he replied. Then he explained that the bike should "never" be ridden in that particular configuration. "We call that an 'angry' sprocket," he said, and showed me another combination that ended up with roughly the same effect.

I was confounded. "You mean I should never ride in lowest gear? I need that." I mentioned the upcoming Centurion.

Now the confoundation was his. Then the sun of comprehension rose in his eyes. He saw he was dealing with an idiot savant of the biking world. It occurred to me later that another bike shop might have seen the chance to make a buck. He saw it as a teaching moment. "In shifting it's a cross-gear thing," he explained, "the smallest front to the biggest back is your lowest gear."

"Oh, yeah," I said, momentarily glad that Daniel doesn't pay attention to such things. "I forgot." And I think I had; or at least, I had never really paid attention, since I shift by feel and never look at the back sprocket. Then I mentioned that I had thrown a chain on that last ride, too.

"Now that," he said, "is something we should look at." He put the sprockets through their paces, doing some hard shifts. "Works fine," he said. "You're keeping the chain clean and riding it. Brakes are good, wheels are true enough. It's a happy bike."

I asked him how much I owed him. "Just have a good ride and think of Budget as a good place, and come back when you have something that needs fixing," he said.

Trust me, I will. Had I gone to that other, unnamed bike shop, I'm sure they would have taken the bike in, done something, and maybe had it back for me in time for the ride. Maybe.