Or, at least should know how to change a tire. My dad taught me, before I was allowed to drive away my junior year of college in my new-to-me 1994 turquoise Saturn. Sweet! Not so sure what I would recall of that lesson today from ten years ago.
Yesterday I had to change a tire, but thankfully, it was not on my car. My bike had a flat. I'm not sure where it came from, but alas, it was flat. Maria had come over to go riding with me, so I was determined to change it. Needless to say, dad never taught me how to change a flat bike tire.
I've never been so happy to be at home because I consulted the internet. It was minimally helpful, and I set to work. There were some bumps along the way (letting some of the air out twice), but I got it done...eventually. I was really nervous when I hopped on at the beginning of our ride; surely, I had done something ignorant and the front wheel would fall off at any moment, sending me soaring over the handle bars into the hard concrete. Good thing I was rocking my bike helmet (shout out to Meagan for telling me to protect my brain) for the journey.
Thankfully, everything went smoothly, until...
Maria got a flat on the ride home with my other bike. We walked the rest of the way to my house.
I'm happy to say that I'm a little more experienced should anyone need to change a flat. :)
Have a terrific Monday...with NO flat tires.