State-Based Learning

I picked up a staple in the rear tire on Market Street this morning, but didn't notice it until the rear wheel started wobbling all over the place. So I got to pull over and change a flat.

When I lived (and bike-commuted) in Berkeley, I had to do this almost every week. The road shoulders there were full of all kinds of crap. This sucked, but it also meant I got really good at it, and always had the right equipment handy.

Well, in ten years of biking in SF, I've probably had two flats, and none recently. I hadn't even looked at the contents of the tool bag in over a year. I had no idea what was in there. I opened it up, crossing my fingers mentally.

I had a hand-pump, so all I really needed was a patch kit, and some tire irons. Chances are, since I hadn't opened the bag in a while, that the rubber cement in the patch kit was all dried out. Worst case, I'd end up taking a bus the rest of the way. Not a disaster, no more than a mild bummer really. However, since it was my first day back riding in months, I wasn't too pleased at the prospect. If I wanted to ride the bus, I would've gotten on a bus, dammit.

Not to worry. Apparently, I was loaded for bear, flat-wise: two new tubes, a quick-flate and three CO2 tanks. Sometimes it's nice having an obsessive-compulsive do all your bike maintenance. Thanks, me-from-the-past.

And did I even remember how to change a flat? Why yes, I did. Five minutes, back on the road. With filthy black fingertips. Smiling.