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I’m Switching to CO2

09.01.2011 by Ray Niekamp // 13 Comments

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.

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Categories // Accessories, tires Tags // CO2, pump

Fixing Flats Faster

08.30.2011 by Ray Niekamp // 14 Comments

I’ve always considered myself to be pretty competent when it comes to fixing flats. I’ve had enough of them that, while they will be forever a pain in the patootie, they don’t ruin my ride like they might have done several years ago.

But my confidence in my flat fixing ability was challenged earlier this month, when I had a spate of them within a relatively short time. I had three flats in two weeks. It turns out that my rear tire had worn so badly, the cords showed through in two places.

What vexes me is this: I take too long to fix flat tires.

I think I go about it just as most other folks would. I shift into the smallest cog and the smallest chainring, then take off the wheel. My seatbag contains three tire levers, and I usually need only two to get the tire out of the rim. I’ll pull the tube out, keeping the other side of the tire inside the rim, then I feel around inside the tire to see if I can find any bits of glass or metal or whatever that might have caused the flat.

I take the replacement tube from the seatbag, and blow a little air into the valve to give the tube a little shape, then fit it inside the tire. Once I’ve got the tube inside, it’s time to grab the part of the tire that’s outside the rim and pop it back in. As always, I have a little trouble getting the last three inches of the tire over the rim, so sometimes I’ll use one of the tire levers to help with that (Yes, I know — could cause a puncture in the tube). Pump up the tire, put it back on the bike, clean up after myself, and I’m off.

I can do this in five minutes. Well, I have done it in five minutes maybe once. More often, it takes 15 minutes. But when I had the flats this past month, I noticed it took me a full half hour to get underway again.

What gives?

I can’t pinpoint the exact cause of my slowness. But two weekends ago I realized that tire changing was not being done as efficiently as in the past. Whatever the cause, I have to get quicker at the whole roadside repair routine, so I can get moving again quicker.

I suppose I could practice, and build my speed that way. Have you ever practiced fixing flats? (Okay, when I started biking seriously a few years ago, I really did practice it — but only once, and never since.) But really, I’d rather wait until faced with the real thing before I dirty my hands doing that chore.

So, readers — I’m asking for help. What kind of techniques do you use to fix a flat quickly and get out on the road where we wanted to be in the first place. What’s the best part of the routine to cut the amount of time I would spend getting the tire changed?

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Categories // tires Tags // flat tire

A Noob Goes To The Races

08.28.2011 by Ray Niekamp // 1 Comment

The Bike Noob has never contemplated racing, but guest poster Jeff Hemmel has — and he did more than contemplate. Jeff tells about his first race, during his vacation this summer in upstate New York.

So there I was, sandwiched between a breakaway pack of 12 riders, pedaling nearly as fast as I thought humanly possible, looking at the last 90-degree corner of what had been 30 of the fastest, most hardcore miles I had ever ridden. All around me faces were dead serious, jerseys were filled with sponsor logos…legs were shaved. And then there was me, a noob, riding my very first race, jersey a plain and unassuming blue…and no real game plan what to do next.

What the hell was I thinking?

To get to that answer you need to backtrack to late July, 2010. That was when I first came up with the idea of actually trying to contest a race while vacationing in Upstate NY. Long story short I chickened out, but vowed to try again in 2011. After all, this race was perfect…it started in a picturesque riverside town, it had some of the hills that I love (and hopefully most riders would hate), and was a fundraiser for a good cause.

Most important, no one knew me. If I choked, I could fade into the background, my pride shielded by my outsider’s anonymity.

I can’t really say why I did it. Most likely it’s because, like it or not, I’m somewhat of a competitive person. While two years ago I was simply content to hang with the Sunday morning group ride, lately I had been trying to actually contest the end-of-ride sprint. I have no aspirations of signing up for every race that comes along, but I wanted to test myself, if only this once.

Which is why, this July upon arriving in New York, I not only began to rack up my usual mileage in the hills, but frequently found myself visiting the race website…mapping out the route…even watching it fly by on Google Earth. And yes, a few days before the event, traveling about 90 minutes north to plop my bike on those roads and actually riding the course. That I made about 10 wrong turns and ended up turning a 30-miler into a nearly 50-mile reconnaissance isn’t the point. The point is I took it seriously and prepared. If you looked closely at my bike at the start, you would have even seen a little piece of masking tape on the stem, labeled with various mileage points and whether the race was turning left or right.

As I said, competitive…and yes, maybe just a little bit anal.

My race day plan was simple — to spot the guys who looked like they were the most serious, and not let them get out of my sight. I figured I’d either burn out and limp to the finish at the back of the pack, or maybe, just maybe, surprise everyone (including myself) and hang on to the finish.

Well, this looks daunting.

At the start, the latter option didn’t look too promising. A well-organized team jumped away from the 100-plus rider field only a mile into the race, and I fought to stay with them, watching my speedo settle in about 26 mph. Their intent seemed to be to drop as many people as possible right off the bat, and I was almost certain I would be next. Somehow I stayed close, even joining their paceline so I could say I did my share of the work and at least earn their respect before my flameout. Miraculously, however, that moment never came. As I survived mile after mile my confidence grew and I knew I could hang with them till the finish, especially as their speed settled down slightly. As to any pipe dreams of actually dropping the pack on a climb and soloing to victory a la Andy Schleck, however, I knew I didn’t have a chance. This group was strong, and even if I found myself with an advantage on a climb, I knew they’d reel me in with ease once things flattened out.

I'm in there somewhere.

So, I I fought my impetuous instincts, rode smart, and just tried to fit in…a guy with hairy legs in a generic jersey in the midst of a bunch of logoed-up team members looking clean and mean. With about three miles to go, a three-man breakaway leapt ahead, but somehow we reeled them in about a mile from the finish. Still together at mile 29, all that remained was a bunch sprint — a scenario I had really hoped to avoid given my utter lack of racing skills. Heading into that 90-degree lefthand turn about 100 yards from the finish, I took the inside line, only to be cut off by the rest who kept up their speed and swept through the corner. I hit my brakes, lost momentum, and watched as that team led their leader out to the finish. It was actually pretty impressive.

And I still managed to finish first in my age group.

The best news for me? I did okay. I triumphed over the nerves of 2010, finished upright (the primary goal of any first-time racer a friend reminded me before the race), and was greeted at the finish line by my daughters and wife…three people in town who did recognize me.

Finish line greeting.

That’s a victory in any noob’s book.

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Categories // guest post, Racing Tags // guest post, Hemmel, Racing

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