How to fix a bike wheel

Snow has descended upon Denmark. Actually as we are all too aware snow has blanketed most of northern Europe. From what I hear of Britain it’s oh so frightful. The media are scaring people with it; desperate parents are filling their non-paid days off with radio phone-ins about it (just happy for a natter); kids are playing in it.

In Denmark, they are simply putting up with it.

Three days ago I was cycling down to university when an enormous toothbrush on wheels roared past. The Danes have invested in road scouring devices to keep the ice away. It looked like an angry car wash. They also clear the cycle lanes, which means biking in the winter is as safe as any other time… or as dangerous.

So there I was romping down the road on my little speedster, when suddenly I encountered a part of pathway somewhat neglected by the council. I didn’t mind though, as I thought I was going through newly lain snow.

Wrong! I smacked my front wheel into a solid block of ice. Before I could react I fell forwards onto the crossbeam of the bike, and clipped a testicle in the process: eventually falling to a semi-crippled mess on the ice.

I’ll be honest; I was pretty sore, and so walked the rest of the way to uni. On parking my bike I hear a whistling sound however. Oh shit – of course, I now had a puncture to accompany my probable trip to Accident and Emergency.

I was in a rush so had to leave it, and walked back home in the dark that night, so I was in no mood to fix the tyre when I got to the flat. Three days later and I’ve decided to stick my neck out and fix the damn thing.

So, how to fix a bike tyre. (This is also my pitch to be the new Blue Peter presenter)

1) Locate which tyre has the puncture. This may sound silly, but last summer I removed the back wheel of my bike – gears and all – only to remember it was the front tyre that needed fixing.

2) Dismantle the wheel from the frame (as seen here). This is your first hand-to-bike contact, and initially you will be aware that a lot of grease and black road grime is all over your fingers. Don’t worry or panic. This is normal, and you will get used to it fairly quickly once the real manual labour begins.

3) Detach the rubber tyre and inner ring from the metal frame of the wheel. For this you will need to use some swanky lifting clips that bike shops pawn off to you for a ridiculous price. Apparently three is enough; the idea is that you lift off one side of the tyre before the other, and three is needed because of the circular nature of a wheel or something like that.

Anyway three clips are apparently easiest, and you can unclip your tyre without the least bit of hassle. I used a single, small flathead screwdriver, and a piece of plastic found in the cellar – as you can see here. Admittedly it’s harder to get the tyre off the wheel – 25 minutes harder to be exact – but the feeling of accomplishment makes it all worthwhile.

4) Find the puncture hole on the inner ring. I looked and looked and couldn’t find it but thought I knew where it was and, in the spirit of acting in any form whatsoever rather than standing idle, sealed the supposed puncture with glue and a patch.

5) This is the most important part. One must make sure the glue is half dried and the patch fully covers the puncture – something that I found to my detriment again last summer.

6) At this point you’re ready to put the tyre back on the wheel, and believe me if you think getting the thing off was hard work, putting it back on is like revising for a Russian sign language examination. It took me – fair to say – a good half an hour to wrestle it back on, but eventually I did it… amazingly just like my successful Russian sign language course.

7) Now you need a pump. I popped across the road to a bike shop where they have a public pump outside – oh how darling. Tyre all pumped up… and shit. The worst noise you can possibly hear after an hour of grappling with a wheel: seeping air.

8) So, repeat stages 3, 4 and 5. Unfortunately I couldn’t quite decide what was a puncture hole and what was simply a rough bit of rubber in the inner tube. I used six different patches trying to sure up that thing. It made a WWI shrapnel victim look like a morris dancer. This tubing was on it’s last… well valve I suppose.

9) Patched up and on the wheel, run across the street and whack on the pump and: air. Great stuff. I decided to give it one more chance, but sadly my luck ran out. As I stuck the screwdriver back in under the tyre for the millionth time I heard a rip, and suddenly a whoopy cushion of remaining air vibrated out all over my hand. I had ripped the tube.

So that was a waste of an hour and a half of my life. I still don’t know if I found the right puncture or not, but tomorrow I think I’ll just go buy a new tube. And what have I got to show for my exploits: raw finger ends, black hands, grime under my fingernails, and a suppressed feeling of my own uselessness.

I’d have never made it as a caveman.