If I'm en route, a flat means stopping, unloading the bike, loosening the rack, removing the wheel, replacing the tube, inflating, reinstalling the wheel, rack, and packs, and getting back on the road. All in all, that's about a half hour of lost time.
My first flat of this trip came at about the 900-mile mark. Not bad.
My second came at about 905. Really, really, really bad.
I've struggled with flat tires in the past, and I know a lot about what can go wrong-- too little pressure, too much pressure, a poorly seated tube, a stressed stem, etc. I don't know why this one blew-- yet. Before I go to sleep I should have a good idea. My bigger concern this afternoon was that the third tube of the day was my last tube. And I'm not carrying a patch kit. One more blowout and I'll require the kindness of strangers to get me going again.
(This is my bike standing still. But I don't want to think about the non-stop wind right now.)
Back on the road. Very nervous of every little hazard, I stop five or more times to feel the pressure in the front tire. Seems okay.
I had called ahead to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and Tunnel folks to let them know I'd be coming through and would need a lift. Before I even headed for Delaware, I had checked their website and learned that bikes weren't allowed, but shuttles were available for $12, the cost of the toll.
As soon as I got there, a worker came out and asked if I was ready to go. His name was Robert, and he checked the oil in the truck while I loaded the bike in the back. We chatted during the ride about biking, whales, storms, and suicide attempts.
After I thanked Robert for the ride, I worked on prepping the bike. I pinched the front tire again. It was soft. Not as soft as a full flat, but definitely too soft for the amount of time it had been on the bike. There was nothing for it but to reinflate and find the closest bike shop. The nearest one was about seven miles away, and there was no guarantee that it would be open. I checked for motels close to the shop and saw a Motel 6. So if all went as planned I would grab some tubes, get to the motel, and figure this out.
Instead of making it to the shop, I stopped at a KMart along my route. They had a patch kit, but no 700-sized tubes. Good enough.
After showering at the motel I ventured out (as I typically do) for some dinner. And then I saw it:
Not the tall building. Look closer. Dick's!
Sushi for dinner, and a little peace of mind that even if I don't figure this tire thing out tonight, I now have four more spare tubes and two patch kits.
Are the flats behind me? Route 13, yes. Tires, to be continued...
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