Not, not the sort inducing squeals of delight at the prospect of treating oneself to end of season kit at a serious discount, I’m referring to those inducing heavy hearts and fevered pannier/wedge pack rummaging for tyre levers, spare tubes and/or patch kit. Sources suggest we’ve had a months’ rain in a matter of days, slightly ironic given the hosepipe ban currently enforced here in the UK. A quick wander around the web brought me to the central Asian republic of Uzbekistan, it wasn’t long into a late afternoon meander before my mind adventured to faraway lands, their people, the culture, architecture all captured via compact system camera and successive memory cards. Swooping into a left-hand bend coincided with torrential cloudburst as water cascaded from the saturated fields, washing silt, shards of glass and other debris across the single moderately surfaced carriageway.
A gritty sound suggested some had begun clogging the Univega’s portly expedition rubber but before I could draw to a halt and purge its water channelling grooves, sharps ripped through the Kevlar casings and burrowed through thorn resistant tubes with a sickening hiss. Holed up in an empty field, I began rummaging in panniers for the first aid kit-spare tube, patch kit, tyre levers, pump etc. Cursing myself for leaving the Co2 inflator indoors, mercifully 550 strokes from the PDW frame fit brought us 80psi and back on the road. However jubilation proved short-lived with a further two glass torpedoes infiltrating the tyre’s armoured casing. Moral sinking quicker than said carcass, I was yards from Uncle Benny’s so wheeled us to the shelter of his veranda.
In stark contrast to our relatively private personas, we have an unspoken, open house philosophy towards each other, having grown up in the same street. It wasn’t long before coffee, cake, sympathy and a very welcome track pump was placed beside me. Intermittent chat and banter suggested the stem on his road bike left him stretched that twenty millimetres too far.
By my reckoning a 90 should restore a sense of equilibrium. Tubes patched and tyre emergency booted, I swung a leg over the Univega’s top tube and beat a hasty retreat before Mother Nature could unleash another round of thunder, lighting and monsoon rain reminiscent of those opening scenes in An American Werewolf in London. Fifteen minutes later we’d made it home and had begun swapping tyres, consigning the rear Schwalbe to my cannibalise pile, swapping the front to the rear and refitting a 1.75 section Michelin to the front. Convinced I’d solved the problem, I popped out the next afternoon for a quick fifteen miles…
Got as far as the first bend only to be serenaded by a rush of escaping air -from the Michelin this time. Not wanting to miss out on a ride I walked the Univega home and took the Ilpompino for a spin instead. Clipping along at a steady thirty-five kph, our serenity was marred by the elephantine ignorance/arrogance of a large commercial van-red, rather than white on this occasion who refused to give way, allowing scant room for error on my part. Having passed, I repaid the courtesy, tapping his coachwork with the flat of my heavily padded palm, inducing a loud bang without inflicting any damage.
Standing 181cm and tipping the scales at 70 odd kilos, I’m hardly a shrinking violet but these sorts of encounters are never pleasant and chances are, he’s substituting a distinct lack of driving skill with outright aggression. Similar behaviours were displyed by an Office Depot driver and a 2000 plate Renault Megane both passing me within the proverbial inch. Such has prompted some further research into helmet cameras, although, on a more positive note I’ve always been attracted to the concept of documenting rides in full HD.
Meanwhile, back in the garage…the good folk at Zyro have sent me these folding Panaracer Ribmo- an urban/touring tyre and reckoned to have leach like cornering prowess, come hell or high water. Kevlar was once the benchmark by which tough rubber was measured but has steadily been overtaken by more sophisticated and arguably dependable alternatives-I’ve had particular success with Aramid-one puncture in three thousand mixed terrain miles. The imaginatively monikered Rimbo feature a PT layer, said to be four times as dependable as that most commonly associated with bulletproof vests…Watch this space.
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