Don’t Be Stupid
In my first blog post, I talked about how on my initial attempt of riding across the country, I got five flat tires in a single day. Perhaps you have been wondering how I resolved this issue. Here is a little secret: I didn’t. Instead, I just became really good at fixing them. Oftentimes and without warning, my tubes would lose air. Sometimes, this would happen rapidly and I’d be able to hear the familiar hissing sound, telling me to pull over and begin my pitstop. Other times, a small leak would develop, and I’d lose air gradually over time. In either case, I would eventually have to stop my bike and begin working on it like in the photo shown above.
Whenever I would visit a bike shop, I would stock up on spare innertubes, usually buying four or five at a time. Additionally, I would grab a few patch kits. These are small containers containing 10-12 patches and some glue that you can use on a punctured innertube, covering the hole and breathing more use back into the otherwise limp and lifeless piece of rubber. Although annoying, this system worked rather well while I was still in the Eastern United States. As I progressed further into the desert, and my available resources grew increasingly thin, my previously tried-and-true system began to show its flaws.
I would say I averaged one to two flats a day. Some days, I wouldn’t have any. On an especially unlucky day, I would have three or four. Each time this happened, I would have to stop, detach my bags, overturn my bike, and then begin the tire-changing process. Within a few weeks, I was a master and could do this in just a few minutes. As for the spent innertube, I would tie it around my seat post where it would ride for the rest of the day. When I made it to camp, I would repair my punctured innertubes so that they could be used the following day.
I spent a night sleeping in an RV park in Van Horn, Texas. When I woke up, I cursed the gods because I was greeted first thing in the morning by an airless tire. Without giving it much thought, I began my quick-fix routine. After successfully doing so, I packed up my camp and shoved off. Roughly an hour later, I crossed into the Mountain Timezone and was welcomed by another flat tire. “Unlucky,” I thought as I once again began to tinker with my bike. Not twenty minutes later: another flat tire. I figured it was just going to be one of those days. I pulled my bike off of the road into the dead grass to fix it. Upon completion, I re-attached my bags, hopped back in the saddle, and began riding. I didn’t make it fifteen feet before I heard the distinct PSSSSS of another puncture. My rear tire just went. Before I could dismount my bike, I heard another PSSSSSS as my front tire went out too. My heart sank. It felt like I was on the business end of a cruel joke. That made five for the day - my previous record.
What I learned in that moment, is that this part of the desert was riddled with sandspurs. By bringing my bike off the road and into the grass, I unknowingly covered both of my tires in the tiny spiky seeds. What made it worse, was that my wheels were covered in them, leaving dozens of pin-pricks in each innertube and leaving them un-patchable as there were too many holes. I had left town hours before, and it would be hours until I made it to El Paso where I could visit a local bike shop to stock up on tubes and patches for my next stretch. I was in the middle of the desert, riding through a minefield. My route had carried me far away from the busy highway. So, a few more punctures would mean that I would be stranded for hours. Needless to say, I was a bit on edge.
I totaled nine flat tires for the day. My new record. For the last twenty-five miles of my day, I was riding on my last innertube with my last patch. One more pinprick-sized hole would be enough to stop me in my tracks, and I would have been forced to hitchhike into town. Even while being careful not to come anywhere near the grass, I would still get a flat tire at random because the wind would blow the tiny spurs onto the road. They would be practically invisible. I might as well have been riding blindfolded because there was nothing I could do to avoid another puncture, besides pray. Fortunately, I made it to town.
All of this could have been avoided. In fact, it should have been avoided. Many people will ride across the country without getting a single flat tire. How could this be? Well, technology exists that makes your tires relatively puncture-proof. Without spending too much money, you can convert your wheels to a tubeless system, that seals the bead of your tire to your rim. Once this is done, you can fill the inside of the tire with gel that will seal any small punctures in your outer tire wall. It won’t plug up a nail. But these sandspurs would have had little effect in slowing me down if I had taken the time to make the conversion. So why didn’t I? Why did I choose to ride 3,100 miles across the U.S. without puncture-proofing my tires? I don’t have a good answer for you. I suppose I was just being stubborn and figured it wasn’t worth the time and a relatively low monetary commitment. However, on this particular day, I was cursing myself for it. This experience taught me an important life lesson: Don’t be stupid.
