This Is What Happened When We Sent a Maintenance Noob to Repair School
I've been racing bikes since I was 13, almost half my life. But until last year, I'd never worked on one.
When I was growing up, my dad took care of my equipment and bankrolled the maintenance. I knew that repairs had to be made, but I wasn't sure what they involved, or even how much they cost. The only thing I could do with a bike besides ride fast was change a flat.
After I graduated from college last spring and got a job at Bicycling, it seemed silly to run home to ask Dad for help. So I didn't. Instead, I just kept riding, putting more miles on my bike than I ever had before. I didn't bother to clean it. Yes, I was also a little bit lazy.
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Everything was going fine—until this past autumn when my shifting started acting up. I dropped the bike off at my local shop, assuming repairs would be minor, and that they'd be free since it was still under the shop's warranty. Because I was heading out of town, I asked my dad if he'd pick it up.
A few days into my trip, I received this text: "Got your bike, we need to talk."
Turns out that, because I had never lubed my chain (yes, really), I'd destroyed the cassette and chainrings. The cables were a frayed disaster—I guess that's why my shifting didn't work right—and also needed to be replaced. Total damage: $350. As I dipped into my savings, I began calculating how many student-loan payments I could have made and how many sushi dinners I'd have to skip. I wasn't ready to swear off spicy tuna rolls, so I had two choices: Either stop riding my bike (um, no) or make an honest effort to maintain it.
When you've been racing for 10 years, it's super awkward to say to a mechanic, "My bike isn't working and my dad doesn't know why." Relying solely on a bike shop was out—I was done being helpless. So, I set out to learn on my own (it's just two wheels, it can't be that hard. . .). I queued up a bunch of maintenance videos on YouTube, but it quickly became apparent that teaching myself was not going to happen (. . .all those cables, and gears, and WTH are spoke nipples?!). Time for Plan B: wrench school.
When I walked into Marty's Reliable Bike Shop in Morristown, New Jersey, for my first of four 90-minute Park Tool School sessions, I was ashamed to admit that I had practically zero knowledge of how a bicycle works. But over the next four weeks, mechanic Rich Januszewski patiently walked me through everything from lubing a chain to truing a wheel. Some skills were harder than others (I'll leave the wheel truing to experts), but none was that difficult. I now know, for example, that even though adjusting a headset sounds scary, it involves just loosening and tightening a few bolts. I can handle that.
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In the end, the hardest part was getting over my own ego. Now, when I hear some mysterious sound, it's a lot easier for me to identify the problem, and address it myself or coherently explain to a mechanic what the issue is, as opposed to babbling, "It's just kind of making this weird noise sometimes." Not having to run to my dad for every creak makes me feel independent and responsible. Plus, I learned that spending just 30 minutes a week on bike maintenance means I won't be hit with another huge repair bill.
Best of all: A well-maintained bike is way faster. Who knew?
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