Bike Service

I rode the Lemond Etape over to John Hayes’ house for a service. He was slaving away in his bicycle repair workshop when I arrived, trying to do something clever to some disc brakes. It had been a hot ride over, road works were everywhere and traffic had been at a bad tempered standstill. It felt nice to just breeze past everyone sat in their cars. Fans going full tilt, people trying to turn round, arms out of windows cigarette ash flicked onto the tarmac. I had little snatches of sound from each car, a hundred little plays about a traffic jam. Here an arguement, there raucous laughter, from this car someone singing along, someone with his head in his hands. And as you might imagine, from the wound down windows a brief sample of one side of a phone conversation repeated for the whole half mile:

“…oing to be late bec…”
“..about another half hour I…”
“ mate facking roadworks…”
“…ould you let her know I’m going to b..”
“…aven’t moved for twen…”

I rode hard to get there and felt like not doing much but sittting down for a bit. John handed me an ice cool drink and hoisted the bike onto his workstand:

John services the Etape

John used to be a bike shop mechanic and he’s lost none of his skills, he very quickly got the gears running properly again and adjusted the brakes so they bit before the levers hit the handlebars. The road where he lives is also nice for test runs on the newly serviced bike.

We made plans for the Tuesday ride this week, hopefully with an extra rider, John’s neighbour. With the bike running silky smooth, I headed back into Trowbridge, following a fellow called Andrew who John knows on his Hitchen(?) bike. It had amazing lugwork but it was a bit of a state, I could hear some appalling sounds coming from the gears as I rode in his slipstream. He was also dressed in some shocking pink lycra. At the big roundabout in Trowbridge centre there was an enormous queue of traffic. A pedestrian told me someone had run a red light and ended up with a lorry parked in their car for their trouble. Luckily no one had been hurt, but nothing was really getting through. “you’ll be allroit on yer boike though” he added. I scooted past the stationary cars, vans and buses, past the ‘incident’ (sheepish looking group of people standing by the side of the road, cross looking lorry driver, lots of glass) and back along the A361 to the village. In total seventeen miles.

Published in: on July 30, 2007 at 11:44 pm  Comments (2)  

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2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. fantastic page, just found it by complete luck, looking forward to the mornings ride now, and got a huge smile going thinking about the my days over there, I got lost when I first got there in some country lanes in Devon……it’s not like the big paddocks of W.A.! John is a great guy to tune your bike for you, buy him a beer and slap him on the back for all of us. cheers AJ.

  2. John’s a great guy anyway, but doubly so for his bike tuning skills. He’s one of those people who just can’t resist tinkering with bikes, all I’ve got to do is persuade him that what he REALLY wants to do is open a bike shop….

    Thanks for your comment and your kind words Alan.



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