Fixing a flat can take a village

The beauty of biking on the Trail of the Coeur d’Alenes cannot be overstated.

In the 10 miles from the Medimont trailhead to Harrison, the fall colors are brilliant. The solitude is calming. The surrounding scenery is stunning. It is peaceful and perfect on a Sunday afternoon.

And then came a flat tire.

Now for a normal person, a bicycle flat tire is no big deal. It's pretty routine. Change it and be on your way. Should take 10 minutes.

But I’m not normal.

When things go wrong, even little things, doubt rises and panic sets in. I am a worrier.

So when I got a flat a few miles past Harrison on Sunday afternoon, literally right as I was turning around because there was a lot debris on the trail, I was greatly concerned.

For good reason.

I wasn't having much luck putting on the new inner tube. I had done this before, but this time, simply could not get it and the old tire to go on right. After about 10 maddening minutes and wondering why I was this dumb, I thought I might have to walk back to Harrison and call for help, which would be embarrassing.

I was hoping someone might come along who could help, make me feel less lonely, but I had seen only two other cyclists, and they were headed out, away from Harrison. Chances were they were long gone.

But a few minutes later, here they came. And better yet, they stopped to see if I needed help.

Absolutely.

Their names, not sure about the spelling here, I believe were Bob and Carrie. They were part-time residents of Harrison. Bob tried to get the inner tube on, but didn’t have any better luck than I. Together, we were still stumped.

“If you get back to Harrison, I can pick you up at the marina and drive you back to your car,” Bob offered.

Then, reinforcements arrived.

A woman named Cathy out for a walk stopped to see what was up. She knew bikes, how to change a tire and talked me through it. She warned me to be sure the inner tube and tire was seated right on the rim.

I thought I had it.

Five minutes later, I used the C02 cartridge to fill the inner tube. It worked, but Bob spotted a problem. The tire bead was not set correctly and was pushing over the rim, creating a small bulge. It looked like it could blow at any time.

I let some air out to see if it released enough pressure so I could put it into place, but no go. With no other choice, I put the tire back on. It didn’t rotate right, as that bulge was catching on the brake pad. Now what?

Bob knew.

“You’ll have to release the brake,” he said.

How do I do that?

He pushed a lever and the brake popped free. The tire could spin unhindered.

I quickly gathered my things and thanked all three.

"I'd still be trying to get the tire on," I said.

Bob and Carrie followed me to Harrison to see if the tire held. It did.

“I should be OK,” I said. “Worst case scenario, the tire goes flat and I have to run with my bike back go my car. I'm a runner. That's something I can do."

With a wave and another shout of thanks, I rolled away. For the first few miles, slow and careful. Then, confidence growing, I cranked it up, pedaling furiously, relieved with each passing mile.

With 3 miles to go, I relaxed and stopped for pictures, including one of a moose that wasn’t having it. It walked up the embankment to the trail and stared me down. I got the message.

Finally, I arrived at the car. It was still a beautiful day with a setting sun. I was thankful for the moment, and for the folks who could have passed me by, but didn’t. They stopped to make sure I was OK and got me on my way.

Those are the kind of people who life better.

And just maybe will help me learn I don't have to worry so much.

Bill Buley is a reporter with The Press.