When the Fastest Way is the Longest Way

How long does it take to change a flat bicycle tire?

If you’re me, it takes 7 days.

“7 days!” You may think, “And with all the bicycling you do!”

My parents wisely taught me that “Haste Makes Waste,” a saying I always think of when I am hastily cleaning a counter and knock over a glass of water. Or when I try to water my hanging angel plant without taking it down, and it spills all over my dining room furniture.

But it can also apply to using shortcuts rather than following proper protocol when trying to fix things. Inevitably the shortcut will come to bite you and you will wind up wasting lots and lots of time and having to do it the long way in the end.

This is what happened in the unhappy case of my bicycle tire. In fact, this silly problem has caused me such distress that I have been unable to write for several days!

The back tire had been slowly losing air ever since I last changed it in the spring. Almost every time I wanted to ride, I had to put some more air in. Not wanting to spend the amount of time it had taken me to fix the tire in the spring, I tried every shortcut I could.

While in the auto parts store, I picked up a can of instant flat tire fix. You spray it into the tire and it instantly blows it up and takes care of the hole. I did this and it was very messy! It also did not last. ($5 wasted and a big mess of smelly white fuzz in my garage; happily I was wearing my glasses and did not get sprayed in the eyes.)

Then I picked up some bike “slime” that is also put into the tire. It finds the hole and blocks it up. This also did not last. (Another $5 wasted and green slime all over the tire and garage floor.)

DAY 1. I finally decided to go and fix the tire. Not wanting another flat, I thought I would try the tube that is pre-filled with green slime, so that in case of a puncture it would not go flat. I have a 27-inch tire and purchased a 26-inch tube because it was the largest size they carried. I stretched it to fit. Then I had to really struggle to get the tire to fit over the tube. This took so long that I had to leave the bicycle upside-down on the front porch overnight and leave it to the next day.

DAY 2. Two hours and two sore thumbs later, I put about 10 pounds of air into the tire before checking to make sure the edges were properly fit into the rim. I noticed that a small amount of tube was sticking out of the tire. I went to push it in. I was now working in the dark, so my face was very close to the tire.

BOOM! It was like a firecracker went off in my ear, on the left side. I screamed and ran into the house. I took some ibuprofen, afraid that I had burst my eardrum. Soon the pain started, interestingly in the right ear. Thankfully, the pain went away within two hours and no permanent damage was done.

DAY 3. The next day, I found a half-inch hole where the tube had burst. Another $6 down the drain, on top of much hard labor and all my pains.

DAYS 4 – 5. I tried to patch the hole, but the green slime kept coming out and would not let the patches adhere to the tube. I stuck some painters’ tape over it and it finally held some air. I kept trying to put air in it for two days.

DAY 6. Finally, I went to the store and got a good old-fashioned $3 tube, the right size this time, and had it on within an hour. But it was already too late to ride, so I had to leave the testing until the next day.

DAY 7. We are now able to ride again – 7 days later – and I am able to write again!

“And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand: And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell: and great was the fall of it.”
Matthew 7:26-27

How Many Square Feet Did You Clean Today?

I was fortunate enough to be able to clock my 4.0 miles on my bicycle and get it safely in the garage before the predicted deluge of rain came down this afternoon. I just love my new little gadget, a “bicycle computer” (by Schwinn, $10 at Walmart) that lets me know how far I have traveled this trip, my average speed, and time traveled. Total time traveled is probably the more important one, as the American Heart Association recommends 30 minutes of exercise per day. But knowing the actual distance gives me more mental satisfaction. I reset the odometer every Sunday so I know my total distance traveled for the week.

I have never worn a pedometer, but know it is a beloved device for those who like to keep track of how much they have walked per day. I started wondering if there was some way we could keep track of how much cleaning we did per day. I think every mother thinks she must spend an inordinate amount of time cleaning. Magazines regularly report the number of calories expended per ten minutes of dusting, vacuuming, or scouring. But how many women do you know that actually keep a log (unless they are actually on someone’s payroll for their cleaning duties)?

What if we could attach a meter to our arms that would measure how many square feet we cleaned per day? This would work well for both types of cleaners: the ones who cover lots of area with a light “once-over”, and the ones who like to concentrate on a small area, carefully scouring until each spot is immaculate. Say you went back and forth with a toothbrush 100 times to clean the soap dish in your bathtub, while your friend dusted her entire living with a feather duster; both might be the equivalent in terms of square footage, although you were covering the same square footage multiple times.

I think this might give us some small amount of satisfaction. Then competitive super-moms could call their friends and say, “I cleaned 10,000 square feet today. How many square feet did you clean today?”

“How good God is to the upright, the Lord, to those who are clean of heart!”
Psalm 73:1

Not-So-Perfect Moments in Bicycling and Softball

We had quite an ordeal this week but the crisis is now averted. My nine-year-old daughter had a bicycle accident on Saturday at around 3 pm. She was riding her bicycle in the backyard and fell after going over a tree root. She fell onto the bicycle handlebar, in the left lower abdominal area, and came in crying. We had her lay down and put ice on it for about an hour. After dinner, she vomited around 9 pm.

We decided to take her to the emergency room at our local Catholic hospital. They took a chest x-ray and put her on an i.v. for a cat-scan with contrast. The i.v. needle was uncomfortable but she was very brave. We watched some Peanuts and Winnie-the-Pooh videos. We had some good much-needed laughs, enjoying the videos together. She finally got into the cat-scan at around midnight. The doctor looked at the results right away and said it was just a contusion, to take ibuprofen, rest, and eat a mild diet until she is feeling better.

She has stayed home from school and has been lying down most of the past week, subsisting on ginger ale, bagels, and Cinnamon Life cereal. She is in good spirits and says it is feeling better but still hurts. There is no school Thurs. and Fri. in the Catholic schools here.

Tonight she was on the “injured list” and sat out for the softball game while her almost-eleven-year-old sister played. She had a really bad first inning pitching. The umpire had measured out 45 feet to the pitcher’s mound. Minors ball is supposed to have a 30-foot distance. She threw a slew of ground balls, and soon the bases were loaded with walkers. She was so embarrassed!

She came running to me after the inning and burst into tears. The other children and parents were quite sympathetic. After she went back to the dugout, I said, “It never hurts a kid to have a small dose of humility on occasion.”

The coach was very supportive and let her pitch the next two innings. She did better, but she was still disappointed.

Meanwhile, my toddler was all over the field. She explored several acres of property there, getting herself hurt several times. It was past her bedtime and I was ready to hit the hay myself.

I have had one minor miracle this ball season. Last year, about a third of the games for my son’s baseball league and my daughters’ softball league were at the same time. This put me in the position of having to be literally two places at the same time on weeknights. My husband is able to help out on Saturdays. This year I carefully compared schedules and was amazed to find I had not a single conflict during the week! I was so thankful!

My husband got home shortly after we did and I complained about his work schedule, threatening to never go to a game again. But I was just letting off steam, and I will be happily back in my camp chair (or running after the little one) in a few days.

Painting by Greg Fetler

The Bicycle Tire

A man walked down the block with his little girl, answering her many questions and letting her pick up little things off the street. He seemed to be working to encourage her curiosity.

“Daddy, what is that man doing over there?”

“I think that’s a lady,” he replied.

That “man” was I, struggling to work a new bicycle tire into the 1 1/8” rim. In old Levi’s, a softball shirt, my hair up in a twist and no makeup, I could see how I might look like a man to a three-year-old. Still, it was not the highlight of my day.

Said youngster ran up my driveway. “I want to see what he’s doing!” she chirped.

“Do you mind if she just takes a quick look?” the father asked unabashedly.

“Sure.” Okay, now the encouragement for curiosity had crossed the boundaries of my property line.

“What are you doing?” asked the girl.

“She’s fixing a bicycle,” answered the father, thanked me, and took her away.

This tire has been the bane of my beloved afternoon bicycle ride. For months, I have filled the tire with air before leaving for a quick ride with my two older daughters on the weekend. I knew I only had ten minutes before it would start to go flat.

A few weeks ago, my eight-year-old burned a hole in her tire, putting the brakes on too hard while flying down a hill. Since then, she has been borrowing her brother’s bike while he used his old, too-small bike.

After our friend installed the baby seat onto the back of my bicycle, he told us that my tire had “wet rot” and needed to be replaced. I knew I needed to go to a specialty store for the parts I needed, so still I put it off.

But the added weight of the baby made the problem even worse. Now I had only five minutes before the tell-tale weighty feeling and extreme bumpiness would let me know the air was not holding out.

So finally, yesterday morning, I walked into the Carl Hart Bicycle store. A $4,000+ bicycle hung in the entry-way.

“How can I help you?” asked the young clerk.

“I have some flat tires,” I replied simply.

“Did you bring the bicycles, or are you buying supplies to do it yourself?”

Wow, I never even thought I had that option!

“I’ll be doing it myself.”

He asked me the sizes I would be needing. For the 27-inch, I had a choice between a $20 or $40 tire. I thought of my rusty old Ross.

“I think I’ll go with the cheaper one.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

“I’ve changed a tire before but it’s been a long time…”([when I was about your age] I thought).

He gave me a few pointers and reminded me that if I had any trouble I could come back and have them change each tire, for $11 each.

I put the supplies in the garage, looking forward to getting the task done today during the baby’s nap time.

But she slept too late this morning, and nap time did not work out as planned. So I had a bicycle upside-down on the front porch, disassembled, when I had to fetch her from her crib. Dinner had to be put in the oven. My ten-year-old was in tears over a project that was due tomorrow.

Two hours later, with many interruptions, the tire was changed! I took it into the street for a test spin. Triumphant, I called the children for a bike ride.

Were the saints cheering me on? Surely they knew the frustrations that had made up my day, as well as the relief I now felt!

What a glorious thing! To ride around the block with all of my children, on smooth, 90-psi tires and no fear of losing air! That truly was worth all the trouble.

Now that I know what I’m doing, I will change my daughter’s tire tomorrow.

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses,
let us rid ourselves of every burden and sin that clings to us
and persevere in running the race that lies before us
while keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus,
the leader and perfector of faith.
For the sake of the joy that lay before him he endured the cross,
despising its shame,
and has taken his seat at the right of the throne of God.”

Hebrews 12:1-2

Not According to Plan

Yesterday was one of those days composed of things not going quite right, yet ending up well.

Sunday morning I had a terrible time with the baby in church. No sooner had we seated ourselves than she ripped off my glasses, scratching the side of my nose in the process. She thought that was great fun, and I had to get my son to hold my glasses. She then proceeded to attempt to remove my earrings.

After I had carefully pried her strong little fingers off my earring, she decided she wanted to have every one of the pew’s hymnals in her possession. This entire scene had been intolerable for me from the beginning. But I knew it was going to be considered an annoyance to others as her “eh? EH?” insistence on the hymnals grew in crescendo.

I motioned to my husband my intention and removed the baby and myself from the church. I have not had to do this since she was a newborn. (Although I have come close many times.) We went outside and sat under a huge old oak tree. She happily and peacefully played with a pile of acorns for the remainder of the mass.

After church, a friend came over to help me secure the baby seat properly to my bicycle. Just as I was putting on her helmet, another friend called. We had been playing “telephone tag” for several days now. My husband handed me the telephone and I explained I was about to go for a bicycle ride.

She loved the bicycle ride but was irritated by the helmet. My six-year-old son ran himself into a curb, close enough to home that my husband was able to run out of the house and bring him home. My eight-year-old daughter was having a problem with her bicycle. Halfway around the mile-long circle that our street runs in, I had two crying girls in tow. My ten-year-old was very helpful in calming them down so we did not disturb the peace in our neighborhood.

I called back my friend. “That was quick,” she said.

“Well, it didn’t go as well as I had planned…”

Have you ever heard of “beef chuck deckle”? I never have, yet I bought a cut of it and made it for dinner. I could not find the word “deckle” in my cookbook, and Webster’s definition had nothing to do with meat. I decided “chuck” meant I should sear and then slow-roast, and it came out delicious.

“Just as you know not how the breath of life fashions the human frame in the mother’s womb,
So you know not the work of God which he is accomplishing in the universe.
In the morning sow your seed,
And at evening let not your hand be idle:
For you know not which of the two will be successful,
Or whether both alike will turn out well.”
Ecclesiastes 11:5-6

Photo Taliah Lempert