The Saga of Remote Living Bike Repairs
It’s taken us three years to realise that we need to book our seasonal bike tune up way (and I mean wayyyy) in advance.
Last year we called weeks ahead, thinking we’d have ample time, but we were mistaken and it didn’t happen at all. With that mistake front of mind, this year, we quadrupled the lead time and successfully booked a coveted spot for our three bikes. If only it was as easy as that sounds!
In fact, booking anything when you live a 10-hour round trip from town is a logistical nightmare. There’s the matter of lining up the trip with other appointments and the necessary grocery haul. Also, the trip has to coincide with mutual days off. C is a shift worker and I work Monday to Friday, so finding a day that works for both of us can feel a bit like trying to solve a Rubik’s cube. Not to mention, that it’s a two-trip undertaking: The bikes can’t be dropped off and picked up on the same day. Combine all of this with the fact that everything has to be worked out months in advance—yikes.
A message I sent C begging him to call the bicycle shop so I wouldn’t have to be that pesky customer.
I don’t like changing or cancelling appointments. The world can be imploding around me, and still, I’ll refuse to cancel an appointment. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it!”, I say, a forced smile painted on my face. This makes me sound incredibly considerate, but might it really just be the tiniest bit of a phobia? I’m afraid of being labeled as that person. The person who cancels. Changes appointments. Needs to be accommodated. An irrational fear to be sure.
The tune-up appointment made me confront this head on. I practically had the bicycle shop on speed dial. Schedules and travel plans changed beyond our control and many phone calls were required. The staff were ever so obliging and acknowledged, “You’re coming in from Beaver Creek! We’ll make it work!”
So, how did it all shake out?
Well, after work, one sunny day, I drove to Whitehorse. I mean, I didn’t drive all the way. I opted to camp about an hour from town for the sole reason that I refused to pay the nearly $300 that available hotel rooms were priced at that night. I love to camp. It’s easy. It’s cheap. And, most of all, it means sleeping in my favourite place: outdoors! I packed the one-person tent I use for bicycle treks thinking Chilli and I could fit, no problem. Wrong. Chilli was not impressed. He likes to spread out, and for a 50 lb dog, he sometimes takes up more room on the bed than I do! Needless to say, he did not appreciate our cramped quarters that evening. By the time 3 am rolled around, he’d decided it was no longer feasible to lie down, and instead, stood by the door as if to say, “Get me the **** outta here!” So, I did just that. Literally packing up and leaving our campsite by 3:15 am. At least we weren’t late for our designated bike drop off time!
Chilli letting me know in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t cool with the sleeping arrangements.
Our home for the evening.
We were told our bikes would be ready for pick up a week later as one bike required a few parts that had to be ordered in. We hemmed and hawed about when to pick the bikes up. A near 1000-km round trip two weeks in a row is a lot. But the only other option was to go without our bikes for nearly a month and I need not explain how short our cycling window here is in the Great White North! So, we capitulated. We’d drive in a week later. We’d do a ‘burn and turn’ as it’s called – the whole trip in a day, which in the winter is a challenge due to the incredibly short days, but with the 24 hours of light we get at this time of year is a breeze (well, kinda). Also, we’d decided to buy a lawn mower, and to host a BBQ, so this gave us a few additional reasons to be in town.
We got it done. Picked up the bikes (turns out only 2/3 were ready) and everything else we needed. Drove back home. Unpacked. Feeling pretty good about things.
The very next day, we set out on a short ride to celebrate a successful bike tune up mission. Our first ride in some time. We weren’t 50 m from our front door when I heard the dreaded thwack, thwack. A flat!
Fear not: I can fix a flat!