Zen and the Art of Fixing a Flat Tire

You stop your bike and pump in some more air, but it doesn't work. Then you realize that you don't have a patch kit, so you begin walking towards the nearest phone. After hours of trying to find a phone or to get someone to let you use a phone, you figure that you have to walk for only another half hour to reach your home, when a cold, hard rain begins.

You vow that you will never make that mistake again.

You are riding on a picturesque country road on your bicycle with the wind in your hair and birds singing in the nearby trees, and you are about to reach a Zen-like state of rapture when you start noticing your rear wheel. It seems to be bumping on the ground. Gradually, you realize that you have a flat.

You stop your bike and pump some more air in, but it doesn't work. This time you are prepared. You use your tire levers to remove the tire, and you open the patch kit, prepare the area around the hole, and then you try to squeeze out some glue. Oh, you didn't realize that the tube of glue was soldered shut under the cap! You frantically search for something to punch a hole, but you discover nothing.

Hours later, after a soaking rain, you reach your home. You vow that you will never make that mistake again.

You are riding on a picturesque country road on your bicycle with the wind in your etc., and you are about to reach a Zen-like state of rapture when you start noticing your rear wheel. It seems to be bumping on the ground. Oh no, not again!

You stop your bike, remove the tire, and open the patch kit. Removing a pin from the kit, you punch a hole in the end of the tube, causing the glue to squirt out. Now, all you have to do is to find the hole.

Unfortunately, this time the hole is not so large. You can't see a hole, and you can't feel air escaping. Since your water bottle is empty, you try spitting on the tube, but to no avail. You start pumping more and more air into the tube, hoping that the hole will reveal itself, but to no avail. Then you put the tube and tire back on and pump it full; the tire quickly deflates.

Hours later, after a soaking rain, you reach your home. You vow that you will never make that mistake again.

You are riding on a picturesque country road on your bicycle with the wind in your etc., and you are about to reach an etc. when you notice etc. Your rear wheel seems to be bumping on the ground.

This time you take out a spare tube. When you can't find the hole, you just swap tubes, and then proceed to ride away. A couple of hundred feet away, you notice that your rear wheel seems to be bumping on the ground.

Did you remember to inspect the tire casing for glass, nails, or a piece of wire? Hours later, after a soaking rain, you reach your home. You vow that you will never make that mistake again.

You are riding on a picturesque country etc. on your etc. with the etc. in your etc. Your rear wheel seems to be bumping on the ground.

This time, you inspect the casing, but the new tube will not fill with air. Did you inspect it before starting your ride? Tubes that are fresh from the factory sometimes have holes in them. As you reach home in a soaking rain, you vow that you will never make that mistake again.

You are riding on a picturesque etc. Your rear wheel seems to be bumping on the ground.

This time you check the casing, and the new tube works perfectly. A mile up the road, you have a second flat. Hours later etc., you vow etc.

You are riding etc. You are no longer worried about flats at all because you have installed plastic thorn guards. Then, your rear wheel seems to be bumping on the ground. A close inspection reveals that the tube was pinched by the thorn guard.

You are riding etc. You are deliberating aiming at every piece of glass and every nail on the road. Your rear wheel is bumping on the ground, but you know why, and you don't stop. Your tire is now filled with solid rubber.

Suddenly, a huge, vicious dog springs out of nowhere. He bites your tire, and you chuckle, thinking how much that hurt. Then you discover that your rear tire is now bumping uncontrollably on the ground because a large chunk is missing.

Hours later, you reach your home and have someone drive you to the hospital for rabies shots. You vow etc.

You are riding etc., pulling a bike trailer full of spare tires. Suddenly, you feel a bumping coming from the trailer. Then you remember that you did not bring spares for the trailer tires. Hours later, etc., you vow etc.

You are riding etc. with an RV full of bikes and tires behind you. Suddenly, you hear a bumping sound behind you. The RV has a flat tire. You ride on for several miles, looking for a phone when you notice that your rear wheel seems to be bumping on the ground. Hours later, etc.

You are riding on a picturesque country road on your bicycle with the wind in your hair and birds singing in the nearby trees, and you are about to reach a Zen-like state of rapture when you start noticing your rear wheel. It seems to be bumping on the ground. Gradually, you realize that you have a flat. You continue to enter your trance. You now know, logically, emotionally, psychologically, and spiritually, that flat tires are just another part of the trip. You enjoy fooling with the tire, getting bit by the dog, walking in the rain, and having passing motorists honk at your heels and throw bottles at you. You don't even wince when you get the shots. You have now passed beyond the plebian problems of bike riders: you are now a true cyclist®.

Isn't cycling wonderful?