Tire Talk

I’m enjoying riding on a new purchase. I finally had to give in and buy a new rear tire. And in doing so, I decided to change my tire arrangement.

For a long time, I’ve been running a Continental Gatorskin 25mm on the rear, and a Vredestein Fortezza SE 23 mm on the front. The reason for this mismatched pair is my basic cheapness. That, and the fact that the Vredestein refused to wear out. It was only after I hit some bad debris that left a noticeable gouge in the front tire that I decided it was finally time to retire it.

That Vredestein — well, I’ve talked about them before. I really liked its unexpected ability to resist flats. That wasn’t one of its selling points when I bought it, but it turned out to be the best thing the tire had going for it. Problem was, it took fairly high air pressure. I ran 120 lbs. in the front tire, and the sidewall said it could take pressure up to 160 psi. But even at 120, the tire rode harshly on the  chip seal roads we have around here. It was not pleasant.

So I decided to replace the Vredestein with another Gatorskin. I run those at 100 PSI, and the ride is better cushioned that way. As you’re already aware, I’m a comfort-seeking rider. Cushioning is important to me.

Now, in keeping with my tight-fistedness when it comes to buying most anything, I shopped around for the best price I could find on a Gatorskin. It’s a fairly pricey tire, but a place I’d bought them before at a good price came through again. Pro Bike Kit of England was carrying Gatorskins at $32, and free shipping to the United States. That’s even less than I paid for Gatorskins at Pro Bike Kit a few years ago, ,when I was pleased at the low price they offered then.

One difference I’m really liking with the 25s on both front and rear is better handling. The wider front just seems to be more stable to me, and I’m attacking curves with more verve than I have done in some time. Maybe it’s just the newness effect — similar to the feeling you get when you finally wash your car. We all know a clear car performs better, right? Hey, I’ve experienced that first hand.

I’ll be watching the Gatorskins to see how well they hold up. While I like their flat resistance, they have tended to wear out sooner than other tires. Will they be able to match the Vredesteins for long life? The front tire that I finally replaced last week was first mounted on my bike in August of 2011. When I retired it, it had 6,748 miles on it. I doubt the Gatorskins will last that long, but you never know.

Patch Party

After my flat tire disappointments the last two weekends, I decided it was time to take action. So this evening, I spent some time at the kitchen table with a couple of patch kits and a pile of tire tubes.

I don’t mind patching tubes, it’s easy enough to do. And I don’t mind riding on them, either. I have in the past ridden on tubes with as many as four patches, and that held together fine. Some biking acquaintances tell me they’ve put on even more — one guy said he was happy riding on a tube with a dozen patches.

It turns out I’ve been slipping in my repair routines. I had several tubes in boxes — not their original boxes — stacked in a cabinet in the garage. I’d marked the condition of the tube on each box, so I was able to grab a new tube to replace the one that flatted on me Sunday. But I like to keep a stock of patched tubes handy. Several of the boxes indicated that their tubes needed patches. Wonder why I didn’t attend to that some time ago?

I carefully examined each tube by eyeball — then inflated them and took them over to the kitchen sink, which I had filled with water. One by one, I submerged the tubes to find the telltale trail of air bubbles that indicated a leak. Some of the leaks were so tiny, they were hard to see — even after the bubbles told me where to look. That’s what happened with the tube I used Sunday. I patched one puncture, but missed another one altogether.

I hope my efforts have paid off. I’ve got a new tube in the tire of my bike, and a freshly patched tube in the seat bag, ready for use in the future if I need it. And in that cabinet, three other patched tubes in their boxes — labeled “OK.” I hope they stay that way.

New Derailleur – Old Tire Trouble

Thanks to the generosity of Bike Noob reader Mel Hughes, I’ve got a new Shimano Ultegra rear derailleur on the bike. He shipped it out earlier this week, and my super local bike mechanic, David V., installed it Friday. I had a good Saturday morning ride with it, made better by an unplanned meetup with David D., or “my friend David” as Bike Noob readers know him.

One of the local hills I like to climb in the neighborhood has the colorful name, “Convict Hill.” Recently, I started timing my climb up it. (No, I won’t become a Stravaphile — I don’t use Strava. An old-fashioned stop watch works just fine.) Anyhow, the first time I put a watch on it, I clocked two minutes, 43 seconds. As I gradually improved, my target became 2:30, which I almost hit two weeks ago, with a 2:32. On Saturday, it was 2:27! It must be the new derailleur, right?

Because it’s a long cage derailleur, David V. warned that it might not shift as smoothly as I’ve been used to. “It’s really for a triple,” he said. And I did encounter some minor issues, like skipping between shifts. But a quarter turn of the adjustment barrel fixed that. I was looking forward to the Sunday morning club ride.

The club ride promised to be a small affair. Sunday was the day of the Livestrong Ride in Austin, and most of the club turned out for that — with several riders going for their first century. I posted on our Yahoo group that I’d be up for a ride to Creedmoor, if anyone was interested in joining me. Six others were — and they were all A riders. This was going to be interesting.

I stuck with them, courtesy of a few well-placed stoplights, for about 10 miles. At one point, we came across all the Livestrong riders as we tried to cross a city street that was part of the route. The traffic cop on the corner refused to let anyone cross the street, but he said we were welcome to turn onto the same route as Livestrong, then make a left turn at the first cross street. We did, and avoided getting caught up in the large peloton.

After our little group crossed Interstate 35 and headed for the country, the As took off. I was suddenly on my own, but had more to worry about than not keeping up with the group. My rear tire felt funny. Not funny ha-ha, but funny hmmmm. I turned into the driveway of a closed dance hall and checked my tire. It wasn’t quite flat, but well on its way.

This was a problem. When I flatted last week on a borrowed bike, I made sure to put a fresh new tube in its seatbag. But that left me with suspicious old tubes for my bag. I decided not to trust the replacement tube I brought, but instead, took out my patch kit and set to work.

Patching is an easy process, but takes more time than replacing the tube. I got ‘er done, and figured I’d save time by using a CO2 cartridge to fill the tire instead of my trusty frame pump. I’ve had bad luck through the years with cartridges. They invariably misfire. Or I misfire them. Sure enough, that happened here, too. I turned to the pump.

It took some effort, but I got the tire pumped up to an acceptable pressure, and set off again. I was headed for the convenience store in Creedmoor, where I could assess my situation. Only one dog chased me on the road to Creedmoor, but it was a particularly nasty Chihuahua (ever notice how aggressive those little guys are?) and I was glad to get by him. At the store, I took a large gulp from my water bottle, then felt the tire. It was soft.

Okay, pump it up again and set out on a return trip, rather than the loop I had planned. I had a nice tailwind behind me, and made good time to I-35 again, when I stopped at another convenience store. Sure enough, the tire had gone soft.

I threw in the towel. I could have pumped it again, then stopped to pump again in another five miles, and hope I would get home. Or, I could risk the dicey replacement tube. Or — and this is what I did — I could call my domestique to sag for me.

It’s good to be on the bike again. I like my new derailleur. But why I’m having this run of flats baffles me. I’ll let it sit for a couple of days, and then try again.

Back on the Bike — Sort Of

I thought I was out of the woods. After my derailleur hanger blew up last weekend, our club mechanic took a quick look at it and told me to order a new one from derailleurhanger.com. I did. They sent it out midweek, and the other day, I installed it on the bike.

So far, so good. It’s a simple job of screwing the new hanger in place. If you order the correct model, there’s no problem.

But when I tried to mount the derailleur to the hanger — problem.

What neither I nor the bike mechanic noticed was the extent of damage to the derailleur itself. I was less shocked to see the broken arm than I was to see that a large chunk of the jockey wheel was gone. I’m not sure if that happened when the hanger broke, or if it had been wearing away stealthily for a long time.

I hauled the bike back to the mechanic, and asked him to find a replacement and give me a call when everything was shipshape. He figured he could find one locally, and that it would cost about $100. Ouch.

But one of the benefits of being a semi-famous biking blogger surfaced the very next morning, when one of my readers emailed me to tell me he had a spare derailleur in his parts box. (I gotta get a parts box going myself.) Not only that, but he was generous enough to offer it to me gratis. I jumped at the offer. Maybe, by this time next week, I’ll be back on my own velocipede.

In the meantime, I still had to get some riding in. Saturday morning, my wife wanted to do her long ride of the week, and I took the mountain bike down from the hooks in the garage, pumped up the tires, and joined her. It’s not in the greatest shape, but it goes all right, if I can ever get used to the way the front suspension dives when I put on the brakes. I feel like I’m going to launch myself over the bars sometimes when I stop quickly.

That’s okay. On the return leg of our ride, I found myself behind two young lovelies at the stoplight just before HEB Hill. Now, this isn’t a steep hill, but it’s long enough to be a tester. I recalled being passed by mountain bikes going up the hill, and felt cocky enough to think that I might be the mountain bike doing the passing this time.

The light turned green. The young women pushed off slower than I expected, given the fact that they were a lot slimmer than I, and were on some decent road bikes — a Scott and a Bianchi. I stayed on their wheels up the hill, past the entrance to the supermarket parking lot, when I saw that I probably could pass them. But I didn’t. You’ve gotta know you’re racing to be in a race, right? They were chatting with each other while pedaling easily up the grade. I could feel myself starting to push hard just to stay with them. At the top of the hill, I crossed over to the left turn lane, and while doing so, drew even with them. They glanced my way, then kept on at their steady pace. No reason for them to care about another old fart on a bike, right?

It’s good that I have the mountain bike as a backup if I need it, but I prefer my road bike. That afternoon, I visited my friends Rick and Penny to once again borrow Rick’s titanium Airborne — the same one I had used several months ago. “The rear tire has a lot of miles on it,” Rick said. “You’ll want to keep an eye on it.” No big deal, and I was glad to have the option to ride a decent bike.

It rained Sunday morning, canceling our regular 8 a.m. club ride. But the skies cleared rapidly, and in another hour, the club president was posting a 10 a.m. start for those who didn’t mind riding on wet streets. I was among the first to show up.

The sun was shining brightly, but the streets weren’t drying as fast as they might have if the humidity hadn’t remained so high. We planned to head south to Buda, then across Interstate 35 into a rural area before heading back — perhaps 50 miles or so. As we pulled onto the bike lane along the major thoroughfare that runs past the coffee shop where we start our rides, I could see that the usual grit and gunk was heavy on the road surface after the rain. I made sure to keep the bike’s wheels pointed away from the trouble as we turned east.

But it was bound to happen. Pffffstt! I heard. “Flat!” I shouted, as I braked to a stop. The peloton zoomed ahead, but one rider, Rob, stopped along with me.

I was grateful that he did. Not because I can’t fix a flat — it’s one of the few bike maintenance tasks I can handle competently — but because my seatbag with the spare tube and the tire levers, along with my pump, was still on my own bike, which is ensconced in the bike mechanic’s garage. Rob gave me his spare tube, and the use of the mini-pump he carries. By the time things were back to normal, he was well behind the group.

“I’ll pedal like crazy and see if I can catch them,” he said. “If I can’t, well, I’ll have a nice ride of my own.”

He took off. I turned back the way I had come. It was just prudent to head home, rather than risk another flat. Anyway, I got a new personal best out of it — at about five miles, it’s the shortest club ride I’ve ever ridden.

How Long Do Your Tires Last?

Thinking back to my experience with buying a new tire, it occurred to me that I had had really good luck with it. According to the maintenance spreadsheet I keep (admittedly nowhere near as thorough as my mileage records), the rear Vredestein had never had a flat. That’s right, never. I retired it because the tread was showing a section about six inches long with thin sipe-like cuts in a diagonal pattern. It was just a matter of time before I wore the tread through to the bare cord — and then I would have a flat.

That’s what happened to the previous Vredestein I’d had on the rear, although I hadn’t been inspecting the tread as assiduously as I do now. It wore down to bare cord in two spots, and I had two flats in two weeks.

Still, that tire lasted me 2,627 miles before I replaced it.

As I said in the last post, its replacement rear tire lasted 3,053 miles.

One of my previous Gatorskins, which I retired in 2010 in favor of the Vredesteins, did even better. It had 3,487 miles. Impressive!

Those multi-thousand mile tires were a nice change of pace for me, because I had had a run of blah to bad experience with tires before then. My spreadsheet shows me that the first two Gatorskins I bought lasted only 1,240 and 1,453 miles before I had to chuck them. And before the Gatorskins, I had a series of tires that just didn’t hold up. Some Hutchinson 25mm tires flatted within the first two weeks I owned them. The Kevlar belt wasn’t much help there. I believe the Hutchinsons barely lasted 1,000 miles before I got rid of them. Some Vittorias were even worse. I had the Rubino Pros. Their tread wore a flat spot rather quickly, I thought, at least on the rear. It was obvious when I ran my thumb across the tread — instead of being a nice convex shape, it had definite edges and was flat in the middle. I had the Vittorias for less than 1,000 miles. Ditto with two different kinds of Specialized tires I owned early on. The Mondos that came with the bike flatted frequently, and I replaced them after just a few months with Specialized All Conditions. But I had a bad blowout on one of those after only a month.

Now, I think I’ve gotten smarter when it comes to taking care of tires. I do inspect them more frequently than I used to do before, but more importantly, I deliberately ride away from problem areas in the road — sand, gravel, glass, other crud. It seems like a no-brainer, and it probably is. But I believe I used to ride through gunky spots more often than I do now. A combination of better riding habits and better tires seems to have contributed to what I consider to be decent tire life.

But is it? Is 3,000 miles a commendable life for a road bike tire? Should we expect no more than 2,000 miles, and be ready to replace when the tires hit that mark? Or should we reasonably expect lots more mileage before it’s time to send the tires to the recycling bin?

What kind of mileage have you gotten from your tires? What kind are they?

Trying to Buy a Tire

My trusty Vredestein Fortezza SE rear tire finally started showing signs of terminal wear last week, and with two longish rides coming up over rough chip seal roads, I decided to get a replacement. I’d been runing 23s, but this time I wanted a 25 for two reasons — the wider cross-section gives better traction, in my estimation, without sacrificing any speed, and they can be run at lower pressures, which means a more comfortable ride.

Problem is, when I hit the bike shops to buy a new tire, the lack of selection flaggergasted me. Here’s a blow by blow account:

Performance: We’ve got a Performance brick and mortar store that’s only a year old and quite nice. Although I wanted 25s, I would have gotten another Fortezza SE, but Performance doesn’t stock them anymore! The other tires they had were all 23s. They stock Continentals — Ultra Sports, Grand Prixs, but no GatorSkins. I moved on.

Bicycle Sports Shop: The big daddy of Austin bike stores has a meager selection. It did have some 25mm Specialized Armadillo tires, which are also renowned for their puncture resistance. But I’ve read that they are noticeably heavier and slower than other tires, and I’ve had some unfortunate experiences with Specialized tires in the past. Still, I decided to come back and get one if my search elsewhere didn’t turn up anything.

Jack & Adams: This store is right around the corner from Bike Sports Shop. It’s a small, cramped place that caters to triathletes, and it was packed with people when I stopped by. If anything, their tire selection was even smaller than the other places. I moved on quickly, figuring I’d head for one of the bike shops up around the university. But first, I remembered that an REI store was on the way. I stopped in.

REI: The well-known outdoors store had a big sale on, and was even more packed than Jack and Adams. In the bike area, I found a big selection of wire bead tires, not so much in folding. The wire beads were either 28mm or 23s. I noticed some brands, such as Serfas, that are not carried in other stores.  I saw a 23 mm folding bead Gatorskin, but also an empty hook labeled with 25 mm Gatorskins. A sales man was nearby, and I asked him if they might have any 25s in stock. He said he was headed back there to check on a tube, and he would look. A few minutes later, he was back — and he had the 25. Since I have an REI membership going back to the 1980s, I got a nice break on the price. The $52 I paid at REI was much lower than the $75-$80 the same tire went for at other stores.

I was happy with my purchase, although I knew that I could have gotten a better deal online. What was bothering me though, was that the tire selection at prominent bike shops wasn’t all that good. Surely not everyone who rides a road bike mounts 23mm tires. And not everyone rides on Continental Grand Prix 4000s, although I know them to be excellent at flat resistance, too — but for $80 each, I wasn’t planning to confirm that on my own.

I floated the idea of tire selection the next day on our ride. No one seemed too concerned — maybe they just hadn’t had to deal with an immediate tire need as I did. Jerry, probably the most experienced biker in the group, said he used to get his tires online from Pro Bike Kit — the big British mail order house. “Now, though, I just do a Google search,” he said, “and I buy from whoever has the cheapest.”

I had a great experience a couple of years ago with Pro Bike Kit myself. Gatorskins for $36 and free shipping to the U.S. Now, they’re up around $46, which is still less than I paid for mine. But I tried Jerry’s strategy, and found Gatorskins for as little as $36 on eBay, at the “Buy It Now” price.

“I usually buy a couple long before I need them,” said Jerry, “and I just keep them around until I do.”

“I don’t think that far in advance,” I told him.

I can see I’m going to have to start. While I was caught a bit unaware of my tire’s current state until I happened to do a close inspection last week, I knew it had racked up a prodigious amount of miles — well over 2,000. (Turns out when I checked, the true total was 3,053!) I think whenever a rear tire gets over 2,000 miles on it, its replacement should be ordered, if not fitted right away. By the way, I’ve had the front for a month longer than I had the rear — that’s 11 months now — and it’s not ready to be retired yet. I have had an excellent time with the Vredestein tires. I just wish 25s were more readily available.

I guess I have plenty of time to scout online deals for one.

Sticky Tires

I was out for a ride with Mrs. Noob the other day. We were doing a Mopac loop, which is fast becoming an unfavorite of mine after riding it lo these many years. It’s just getting too busy. Traffic whizzes by, faster than ever, and thicker than ever. The shoulder is consistently covered with grit and gravel. And yet, it’s a traditional biking route around here, so it’s something most of us do without even thinking about it.

Anyway, I was tootling along, out in front of Pat by a good margin, when I noticed something odd about my front tire. It appeared that something was flapping on the tread with every spin of the wheel. I was concerned, because it looked like a flap of tire tread. And with the poor condition of the road’s  shoulder, I wouldn’t be surprised if something had cut it. It occurred to me that rather than keep riding on a potentially dangerous tire along an  increasingly dangerous road, I’d better check it out.

I slowed to a stop, liften the front wheel off the ground, and spun it slowly. There it was — it wasn’t a flap of rubber at all, but a pebble stuck to the tread. (I use the word “tread” advisedly, because the tires I run have no tread — they’re slicks. But I mean the center of the tire where it contacts the ground.) Somehow, I had picked up a spot of road tar, and it in turned picked up a sharp-edged pebble. I flicked the pebble off the tire with my fingers, and saw that it left a depression in the rubber, but hadn’t cut into it or, more importantly, pushed all the way through it. I gave the wheel a gentle spin again, and found another pebble — smaller this time — embedded in the tire exactly opposite where I’d found the first one. Because of it’s smaller size, it hadn’t made nearly the mark on the rubber as the other one. But two in one go — yech!

By this time, Pat had caught up to me, and I told her what happened. Her tires do have a tread design, and from time to time I have used an awl to pry small stones from it. She shrugged and said, “Well, no harm done,” and pulled around me to keep riding.

When I got home, I grabbed a rag and rubbed the tar hard, trying to make it disappear. My efforts weren’t 100 percent successful, but at least I haven’t picked up anymore potential flat makers.

“I Saw It on YouTube Once…”

Don Blount’s post about flats called to mind an experience I had a couple of weeks ago. In fact, it was at the same ride where I climbed the “big” hill. And it reminded me how important it is for bikers to acquire at least the basic minimum knowledge about bike maintenance.

I pulled into the parking lot at the restaurant where the ride would start. Although it was 8 a.m., the crowd was already pretty big, and I squeezed into a parking space between two other cars. As I got my bike out of the back and started attending to details like checking water bottles, making sure I brought my sunglasses, transferring money from my wallet to the ziploc bag I carry on rides, the woman at the car next to me started complaining.

“Augh! What is this?” she cried. “Am I going to be able to fix this?”

A guy who was with her looked on. He obviously couldn’t answer her question.

“What’s the problem?” I asked.

“It’s this,” she said. “The top of the valve came off. I’m not sure how to fix it.”

The presta valve on her rear tire had broken in two.

“No, you’ll have to put in a new tube,” I said. “Do you know how?”

“Oh, no!” she answered. “I don’t have a clue.” She looked at the guy, who apparently was her husband, or boyfriend, or something.

“I saw how to fix a flat on YouTube once,” he said. “But I don’t know if I could do it.”

Flats happen.

I took the tire. As I pulled out the old tube, I talked my way through the procedure, so they could see what I was doing. I’m not much of a bike mechanic, but I’ve fixed my share of flats.

She handed me a new tube from the trunk of her car. I blew into the valve to give some shape to the tube and fitted it inside the tire. I explained how to work around the tire to get the bead inside the wheel, while being mindful not to pinch the tube between the wheel and tire. The bead did something my tires rarely do: it popped into place easily.

I pumped about 30 pounds into the tire, then showed them how to check to make sure the tire is seated correctly, with no tube sticking through.

“I think you two can probably fill it the rest of the way,” I said, handing the tire and pump to the guy.

She thanked me profusely. I turned away to get on my shoes and helmet. The ride would start soon. The tire change had taken me about five minutes.

Changing a tire is simple, yet satisfying. If done right, you’re left with a tire that you can depend on through normal riding. If done faster than usual, you’re left with a sense of accomplishment — of improvement. So don’t be afraid to learn. It’s a necessary skill, and one all bikers should have. If you don’t know how, I did what the guy did — I looked it up on YouTube. Here you go:

‘Tis the Season For Flats

I always have figured flats can happen anytime. But for guest poster Don Blount, this is the busy season.

It is harvest season in the Lodi Appellation, which is the fancy name for the federally designated American Viticulture Area in this part of California’s Central Valley.

In 2010 that area produced some 546,000 tons of grapes. Winegrapes are the No. 2 cash crop here in San Joaquin County, trailing only milk if you were wondering. And you can find some 60 wineries in the area.

The vineyards look pretty, but flats lurk here.

So what does any of this have to do with biking?

Well, I ride my bike in that area a lot as it has roads conducive to cycling most of the time. But when grape harvest begins, so does flat tire season. I was out for a ride recently not having experienced a flat in about six months and I had two flats during the same 25-mile ride. The first flat happened about five miles into the ride and was caused by a long piece of metal that stuck in the rear tire. I was up and running again in less than 10 minutes.

The second flat was noticeable about a half mile from home. It was caused by a sticker that I picked up somewhere along the way. The tire was soft but not completely flat so I was able to nurse it home. I changed the tube later that night and patched it along with three others I had in my garage.

During the harvest all types of debris gets moved out of the fields and onto the road including goatheads, thorns, pieces of metal and all types of other crap. It was during the 2010 harvest season that during one group ride we had roughly a dozen.

I like grapes, I like wine, but I do not like flats.

The dreaded harvest equipment.

There are certain roads I will avoid if I see a lot of harvesting equipment in that area. But it is inevitable that flats will happen.

Still, I do what I can to minimize the number I get. Itry make sure my tires are in good condition, I check them after every ride, wiping them down with a wet cloth and looking for any cuts or things sticking in the tire. There have been times I have found something poking in the tire that has not reached the tube but would have eventually caused a flat if it was not removed.

And when riding, I carry along two spare tubes, three C02 cartridges and a pump. If I don’t use them, I may be able to help someone in need. I would rather carry a little extra weight and be overly cautious rather than stuck on the side of the road because of a flat.

I’m Switching to CO2

So while we’re on the subject of flats, I have to tell you about a 180-degree change in my attitude toward pumps. This is apparently a topic of never-ending interest among bike noobs, because a previous post about pumps and CO2 cartridges is the all-time most popular post ever put up on this blog.

Road Morph

As most readers know, I adopted a frame-mounted mini pump — the Topeak Road Morph — three years ago as my preferred way to get the tires up to pressure after a flat. I had just fumbled and bumbled too many times with CO2 cartridges and decided I needed something more reliable. The Road Morph proved to be the answer. At least, for the several flats I had in the next year or so, I was able to get the tire pumped back up to the low end of its range, and ride home easily on it. At home, I could use my more powerful floor pump to top it off. The pump has bailed out fellow riders in group rides more than once, as they misfired their cartridges and needed something to fill their tires or be forced to call for a ride home. The picture at the top of this blog is of me and my friend David using the Road Morph to pump up one of his tires during a ride.

But during my three flats in two weeks run last month, I had help from riding partners in two of those cases. Each time, they suggested filling the tire with CO2 to get moving faster. As skeptical as I was, I agreed.

My friend David uses the little nozzle that attaches directly to the cartridge. Get it on the valve, turn it a bit, and pfffffft! — the tire fills without incident. Two weeks before, when I had my first flat, a fellow rider lent me his CO2 inflator. It’s the plastic housing that you slide the cartridge into, then use a small trigger to shoot the CO2 into the tire. I’ve got one of those, and I had consistently misfired the thing, wasting CO2, not filling the tire, and eventually switching to the pump. Maybe I’m older and wiser (no, not wiser, says my wife) but this time I filled it with no problem at all.

The weekend between those two incidents, I flatted while on a solo ride, which prompted the previous post about fixing them faster. This time I used the pump. The Road Morph is terrific for the first 60 pounds of pressure. Then you have to work harder. It’s got a built-in pressure gauge down by the valve, so you can see how well you’re doing. By the time you get to 90 pounds, you’re pushing with all your strength and the pump is barely moving. I know I’ve gotten tires up to 100 pounds in the past with the Road Morph, but it’s a struggle. And given how easily the CO2 cartridges work when used correctly, I decided to change my ways.

Inflator and cartridge.

So now I’ve got my inflator with the trigger and two cartridges in the seat bag. But in true belt-and-suspenders style, I continue to keep the pump mounted to my frame. One way or another, I’m going to leave the scene of future flats with properly inflated tires.