It’s cold and dark out. I’m standing on the side of a gravel road halfway down a thousand-foot descent; there is no cell service. I grit my teeth with frustration because a nail has stabbed so far through my tire that it is sticking out the side. I can’t believe this is happening right now because this is my second flat of this 25-mile ride. Before this ride, I can’t remember the last time I got a flat tire; I don’t think I've had one since last fall, over a year ago.
I set off from work about two hours earlier, a bit before dark, with the goal to ride home. As the crow flies, I live about 12 miles away from where I set off. However, the most direct route home involves a twisty road through a mountain pass with lots of blind corners and small shoulders. Therefore, today I’m choosing my preferred way home: a longer ride that avoids the aforementioned pass and alternatively goes around a mountain range, including a mix of pavement, singletrack, doubletrack, and gravel.
As I left work, the route quickly jumped onto some doubletrack, and within the first 15 minutes, I already started to feel that my rear tire was feeling pretty soft. Once I rode over a few more bumps, paying closer attention to how my rear tire felt, I confirmed that it definitely lost some air. Luckily, I had a hand pump with me, and as the tire was set up tubeless, I figured, optimistically, that the leak had sealed itself already, and I just needed to top up the pressure. It was only a few minutes until I had my tire back up close to my normal riding pressure. Before I hopped back on the bike, I pulled my jacket out of my frame bag and threw it on. It was colder than I was expecting.
Everything was going as expected for the next few miles. I remember coming out of the forest trails and as I started to ride on the road, I noticed how clear and crisp the evening sky was. It’s evenings like this, when the sky is lacking an insulating cloud cover, that the temperature really drops once the sun goes down.
On the next gravel climb is when I noticed that my rear tire was feeling low again. I could feel the tire squirm as I rocked back and forth, climbing out of the saddle. I finished the short climb, then I hopped off and felt the tire, and it was definitely lower than I left it a few miles back. I debated putting in a tube now, but as it lasted longer than the first time, I figured I could get away with just topping it off again. So that's what I did, and again, it felt good for the rest of this section of gravel, and the following singletrack.
As I was settling into the longest segment of pavement on this ride, I started to feel the telltale signs of a low tire again. My first thought was to see how long I could ride before needing to stop again, but when I started to think about the options, I realized that if I stopped now, I could put in a spare inner tube and actually fix the problem before I lost the last of the sunlight. Furthermore, there was a fast and long paved descent coming up where I would feel better knowing that my tire was not leaking air. I knew that there was a good pull-off coming up soon where I could change the flat away from traffic, so I made up my mind that I would ride on my slowly deflating rear tire for a few more minutes, then bite the bullet and put an inner tube in.
I got to the pull-off and pulled off the repair smoothly. It turns out that after 10 years of being a bike mechanic, I can change a flat tire with relative ease. I was back on the road within a few minutes, and despite dusk settling in, things were looking brighter, metaphorically speaking.
The fast paved descent went well. Despite being chilly and blinded by the high beams of oncoming cars, it was peaceful. I had a few minutes of rolling hills before the last major gravel climb, and this is when I ate the last of my nutrition. I was still chilled after the long descent, but I knew that I had this climb coming up where I figured I would warm back up. I planned on starting the climb with my jacket on, then just once the chill left my body, I would stop and take it off before I got sweaty; I got to the top of the climb before I reached this point. At the top of the climb, I zipped up the jacket the last few inches and pulled the collar up as high as it would go. Then I started the descent with my shoulders pulled up close to my ears to minimize the wind chill as much as I could.
Right as I was settling into the descent, I was startled by a loud metallic clanging that my bike suddenly started making. I stopped as quickly as I could on the loose gravel. My mind was racing: did I break my frame? Did a bunch of spokes snap all at once? Once I stopped, I unstrapped my handlebar light to take a look at whatever was making this sound, and this is where I found the nail that is sticking both in and out of my tire. It is in fact sticking out far enough that it was hitting my aluminum frame as the wheel was spinning around, and that is what was making the concerning noise.
So here is my analysis of the situation: first off, it is dark and cold, and I know I don’t have cell service for a few miles in either direction. But the good news is that I am lucky to have a second inner tube in my frame bag, and a hand pump to inflate it, too. I remember that I even have a lightweight headlamp in my frame bag so I'll even be able to be well-lit while I change the tube. However, I still feel less confident in this repair now that the stakes feel higher. As I start the repair, I realize that this spot is going to make it a little more tricky; there are no flat spots around, and there are crispy brown leaves everywhere. I think to myself that I really need to execute this repair right, or else, it will be a long and cold walk before I can phone in a pickup.
I pay close attention to where I set my multi-tool after I take the rear wheel off so as not to misplace it in the deep leaves. I get the tire off the rim easily, and as I’m installing the new tube, I’m extra careful not to twist or pinch it as I remount the tire to the rim. As I slowly inflate the tire pump by pump, I start to feel more at ease. I take a deep breath as I hear the signature snap of the tire bead falling into place on the rim.
I pump the tire to a higher pressure than I normally ride because the last thing that I need is a pinch flat from a bump during the remaining miles of this ride. I put the wheel back on the bike and flip the bike right-side up. While I’m packing up my tools, I realize that I need to do something with this punctured tube which is now covered in gross tubeless sealant. I think for a second about tossing it into the dark forest and riding away, but I end up wiping it the best I can with dead leaves, then stuffing it back into my frame bag.
The last few miles of the ride went great. To be honest, I found myself smiling, buzzing from the adrenaline, not even noticing the cold anymore. When I get home, I head straight for the shower. As the hot water is warming me up, I think to myself, that it’s been a while since a ride has turned into an adventure like this. In fact, I enjoyed it in a way, and that I need to have more adventures like this in my life.