Master of (Dis)repair

The Evolving Odyssey of Mechanical Fixations
 

- Kristin Butcher

THERE’S NO WAY I CAN FIX THIS.

This thought has rattled in my mind more times than I can count in my 20-some-odd years of mountain biking misadventures–and not to brag, but I can count pretty darn high. Sometimes the realization of mechanical defeat comes after a disconcerting pop that brings the ride to a halt. It echoes from an inverted bike teetering on the trail’s edge–mountain biking’s universal symbol for a ‘Work in Progress’ sign. Lately, this thought has been the background music to late nights in the garage surrounded by blackened remnants of formerly blue nitrile gloves, like a scene from some proctologist-themed horror flick.

Decades ago, all it took to send me on a walk of shame out of the woods was an unexpected trailside flat. I’d familiarized myself with the tube-patching process in the comfort of my living room well before reality TV became the incubus of prime-time television, but I’d never fixed a flat while battling swarms of angry mosquitos with nothing but a broken tire lever and dried-up patch kit. If experience is life’s greatest teacher, then mistakes are the Mr. Miyagi of instruction.

Since this was the era before tubeless tires, it wasn’t long before another snakebite paused another ride. It wasn’t my bike, but I fixed it anyway. After all, I had a spare tube, fresh patch kit and more than enough tire levers. I’d also become well versed in ignoring the mosquitos biting through my sports bra.