Late Bloomer

When I was about six years old, and my sister was about seven years old, my sister got a bicycle. She subsequently proceeded to crash it in the driveway, busting and bloodying herself up on the gravel. Being an observant baby sister, I'm pretty sure I didn't ride a bike a single time in the next fifteen years.

Then, when I was in law school, my mom invited me to spend the weekend vacationing with her and a friend on Hilton Head Island in South Carolina. I agreed to let her rent me a bicycle. I refer to this time fondly as The Time I Learned How To Ride A Bicycle. At age 23. A late bloomer. There were sidewalks everywhere and we went everywhere on our bikes -- shopping, dinner, cocktails, etc. -- and I crashed into a lot of curbs, trees, blades of grass, etc. I even found a little lost dog to put in my basket! (Thankfully his owner returned before I had a chance to crash again.)

That's when I realized that nothing really compares to wind in your hair, a frosty beverage in your belly and a silly little dog yipping away in your basket.

However, learning to ride a bike in your 20s -- or 50s -- is a lot different than learning to ride a bike in your single digits. You don't have that same fearlessness or resiliency that you had at 9. I met a woman last weekend at Sultana who was also just learning to ride and was asking me for tips. I'll be the first to confess my mechanical ability at the bike shop is limited to a lever-like action in pushing the broom around -- that's what Aaron is for. But this is something I can handle. So, for all you beginners out there, here's my expert advice:

1. Ride your bike to happy hour. It's not a coincidence that this is the first on the list. Don't close down the bar, but a margarita or two will help in the fearlessness AND resiliency realms for the cruise home. Plus, with all that exercise you're getting, you deserve a bubblegum vodka treat!
2. Pick a destination. It's easier to get and stay moving if you have a reasonable goal. Like having a cup of coffee or paying your electric bill or riding to the square for the Wednesday night cloggers.
   
3. Wear a helmet. Full-face if necessary. And elbow pads. And one of those plastic face masks like Richard Hamilton of the Detroit Pistons. Whatever you need to feel safe.
   
4. Take advantage of the early morning. Prescott is a sleepy, sleepy weekend town. By 9AM downtown can be hustle and bustle, but 7AM on Sunday, the road/bicycle lane/dirt path/sidewalk is essentially yours.
5. Fall down. Contrary to my beliefs as a six-year-old (and admittedly, I was a sissy six-year-old), crashing is really not that big a deal. But you don't realize that until you do it a couple times. Once you realize that crashing isn't so bad -- just some skinned knees and potential embarrassment, depending on your audience -- you open the door to even more fun on your bike. For example, the last time I crashed was because I slammed on my brakes and then looked back to see my "awesome skidmarks." Whoops.
6. Breathe. If you get frustrated with wobbling or tired of concentrating on the little white line, just stop. You don't have to prove anything to anyone. You're supposed to be having fun, remember? There's bound to be a clean patch of sidewalk to park your behind on while you take a chill pill. Or, if you're like me, to call your mom crying until you get over yourself.
   

I'd be interested to see how anyone fairs on my advice . . . but moral of the story: It's never too late to start having fun. Good luck!

Slime Time

One of the first things I learned about Arizona is to be wary of the vegetation. Apparently the "blade" defense mechanism is the only one that has materialized out west, because even fluffy-looking plants can get you if you rub up on them the wrong way. For example, the ocotillo in bloom has a false sense of security about it. Lesson learned.

This can be rough on other sensitive areas as well -- like your bicycle tubes. This past spring, Aaron and I spent 3/4 of our weekend bike rides either (1) racing as fast as we could back to the house as soon as we heard the telltale hissing, trying to beat the clock before the air ran out or (2) sitting on the side of the road waiting for his dad to come rescue us and our deflated tires. The culprit: goat head thorns, last but not least of the evil plants.

Aaron dutifully patched our tubes each time, and we continued to operate on the mantra of just-one-more-time. However, Sunday we rode out several miles to Willow Lake in the beautiful weather, and no sooner had we turned onto the dirt path, Aaron started picking thorns out of his tire. Racing (uphill) back to town to beat the hissing . . . I decided THIS was the last time.

Turns out, it took ten minutes and less than $10 to squish some Flat Attack into the tubes. Flat Attack is the original tire sealant -- born the same year as me -- and seals any holes in your tube as fast as you can roll over a prickly-pear. Plus it's non-toxic and a very attractive shade of booger green! And it's probably the only slimey substance on earth with it's own mascot. You can also get pre-filled slime tubes if your bike has presta valves.

Don't fall for the just-one-more-hole trick! Make your life easier and protect against flats with thorn-resistant tubes and/or some slimey green filler. No more flat tires, no more patch kits, no more telltale hissing ruining your morning commute or afternoon joyride.

So ... What IS A Tune-Up Anyway?

Here is everything I know about tuning up a bicycle: You need to do it sometimes. And there's lube involved. The end.

So this weekend I went ahead and asked: What IS a tune-up anyway?

"A tune-up is the way I feel about you, except I do it to your bike," Aaron says while rubbing my leg. "It's a heart with a T and two wheels coming out of it." (See explanatory illustration, right.) So a tune-up is basically TLC for your bike, which jiggles around, loosens up, and loses its smooth-like-butter qualities when you burn rubber all over town. Or bounce it down a mountain and drag it through the dusty desert. Or leave it out on the back porch as a pack-rat habitat.

At Sultana Cycles, a tune-up includes lubing up your cables and housing and chain . . . and derailleur pivots . . . and limit screws . . . and anything else that can handle a little Pedro's GO! (our environmentally-friendly, biodegradable, canola-oil based lube -- for sale and available on request!). We will also make sure your hubs, derailleurs, cables, brakes, headset, and bottom bracket are installed correctly and adjusted to avoid any strange rubbings, squeakings, clackings, etc. A detailed inspection ensures all parts are secure and installed appropriately -- so you're not flung unexpectedly face-first into the pavement when your wheel falls off because the quick release is not installed properly. Tires are properly inflated. Chrome is polished. Bolts are tightened. The seat is faced forward again. You ride away happy. A heart with a T and two wheels on the side.

Tune-ups are like Valentine's Day -- maybe you only buy your bike fancy chocolates once a year, but you can still show it love year-round by practicing frequent chain lubrication and proper tire inflation. Tune-ups run about $60 plus parts, but you can get $10 off Aaron's hard labor if you mention this ad! Trust me, it's more fun to ride your bike when it works good.