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September 2 Saturday some sun 15º C Bicycle touring Germany Arran has two broken spokes on his touring bicycle's rear wheel. I make the journey with him back into Potsdam to get the spokes replaced and to buy some groceries, for tomorrow is Sunday and most shops in this part of Germany will be closed. We go to a bike shop near the train station. The mechanic takes into the back shop and easily replaces the non-cluster side spoke. But when he tries to take off the cluster to replace that broken spoke, he can't get the Hyperglide locking nut off. A group of customers arrives to rent bikes and he leaves us to go and serve them. Arran and I, left alone in the back of the shop, try and take the nut off. We don't succeed in removing the nut, but we do succeed in breaking the chain whip. We search through some plastic drawers and find a bolt which we use to fix the chainwhip. I've seen them take Sharon's cluster off before by sticking it in a vise and turning the rim. Hey, there's a vice. So I try that. I learn, unfortunately, that Hyper-cassettes don't come off that way. I think I succeeded in merely tightening the nut. Back to Plan A. We try the chain whip again. We again break the chain whip. It is quicker to fix the chain whip this time though ... we know where the spare bolts are kept. The bike mechanic must be wondering what all the noise is about back in his shop as Arran and I have practically demolished his workshop with metal parts flying about. The bike mechanic finally comes back. He tries to hammer the cluster nut off, to no avail. He gives up and gives us a map of Potsdam. Along with marking where a food store is, he marks the location of three other bike shops. We make our way to the first bike shop. The guy says they can't fix it until Monday. "We'll fix it ourselves if you remove the cassette for us." He agrees and takes the wheel into the back room. Soon, we hear the familiar sound of breaking parts. Bad words emanate from the back of the shop. An old guy shuffles back looking rather unhappy. "Kaput!" he says, as he hands the rim back to Arran. We go to the next bike shop on our route. The woman there tries. Having no joy, she gives the tools to us along with a hammer. We fly at it again, but still no joy. She finds a flexible cable spoke and threads it into the spoke hole with an end shaped like a fish hook. Arran is so happy he tells me he almost asked her to marry him. He buys an extra flexible spoke as insurance. We hit the food store at 1 PM. We have spent four hours trying to fix Arran's rim. We go back to the forest. Sharon and Rebecca have put fenders on Arran's bike. They look like they've had more success than us, but they say it hasn't exactly been smooth sailing either. Apparently there wasn't enough plastic nuts and bolts. Arran goes to true his wheel and discovers another broken spoke on the freewheel side. We don't put in the flexible spare one he bought because we need a file to shave off the excess end once the spoke is in the rim. So, instead, we take one of our spare spokes and bend it like a hook after snapping off the rivet head. Arran threads it in after a bit of persuasion. It is four o'clock by the time we leave. We pedal a ways down the road. Arran's front fender falls down when a bolt breaks. A tie-wrap holds it back on. After another few kilometres, Arran's water bottle falls onto the road. The metal holder cage has sheared from its bolts. We decide to ride behind Arran in order to pick up his bike pieces as they fall off. Being a lawyer, he thinks this is good fun. He keeps muttering, "I see a letter coming here." He's decided to write letters to each bicycle manufacture. "Dear Sir, My many friends have recommended your fine quality equipment and it has failed to live up to my expectations...." We are on a road that runs next to the former border of east and west Germany. Looking for a free camping spot, we pull our loaded touring bikes to a stop on the roadside. Arran starts off into a forest to check for possible spots. Sharon sees a sign next to the road with "Halt!" written on it. She asks Arran what the rest of the sign, written in German, says. He translates the sign: "Unexploded mines. Do not enter." With that, Arran cautiously tiptoes his way back out of the forest like some Big Bird in neon feathers. |
