$&!?#* Tires

So my primary ride sits in a bike shop in Albany, NY waiting for a new rim and some fresh tires. After close to 3000 miles, this feels a bit like a slow motion NASCAR pit stop. I flew home Monday night, and on Tuesday got my old bike out, pumped up the tires and found an old helmet. Then I had to go to the bike shop for a pair of shoes and cleats so I could actually ride it. I was ready for a Wednesday ride with my friend Barry.

On Wednesday morning, Kelly came in from the garage and announced that I had a flat tire. I was so pissed off I couldn’t see straight. I hadn’t even ridden the bike yet. I said something like “I just pumped those f***ing tires up yesterday“. She quickly pointed out that she wasn’t talking about the bike, she was talking about my car. Feeling a sense of both relief and dread at the same time, I went about my day and ignored the car. I rode to one of my favorite restaurants in downtown Vancouver, Amaro’s Table, and met my friend Jason for lunch. From there, I let Barry and we had a nice ride out to Frenchman’s Bar - about 24 miles by the time I got home.

On Thursday, I rolled my car out of the garage, called AAA, and had it towed to the tire shop. As the car was getting put on the truck, I saw that the problem was a big bolt right in the middle of the tire. We dropped it off and then I went and played golf. As predictable as the rain in Vancouver, the shop called me right as I was preparing to hit my second shot on the first hole. Even more predictable than the rain and the timing was the “I have bad news about your tire” line that came next. Turns out the factory tires from Audi are foam-filled (for a smooth, quiet ride). Turns out you can’t patch the foam-filled tires, you can only plug them. Turns out they don‘t guarantee that the plug will last more than a few days. Turns out that the car is all-wheel drive and so all 4 tires need to be replaced. These tires have less than 19000 miles on them after more than 3 years. There’s plenty of life left on them. I told them to just put on the spare and I’ll deal with it later. When I went to pick the car up later that afternoon, they offered to get me some pricing on a new set. Turns out they didn’t have that size tire in stock so they said they’d call me on Friday morning with the quote. $2,788. I told them no way, I’d shop.

After starting my day with that little nugget, I was at least looking forward to wings at Fire on the Mountain with Tony and Kevin. The ride to the restaurant was about 14 miles and one thing Portland does well is bike lanes. I cruised in without issue, had a great time catching up and eating wings, and ruefully watched out the window as the rain started. About 10 seconds into the ride home, I was regretting my previous decision to remove the fenders from this bike. About 10 minutes later, I was pretty well soaked from head to toe. About halfway home, I reached what I referred to as “The Gauntlet.” This is the stretch of road/bike path through north Portland where historically there has been an endless stretch of homeless camps. Apparently since I’ve been gone, Portland has moved many of the people and camps out of this area. From the car, the area looks much cleaner than it has since before COVID. From a bike seat, much of the street-level garbage and debris is still there. So even more predictable than the rain, the phone call timing, and the bad news, was me getting a flat tire in this worst possible location. In the only thing that went right, at least Kelly had her phone with her and the ringer on, so she was able to come pick me up after I walked through The Gauntlet. As I walked to meet her, I was on a bridge over the Columbia Slough and had a serious conversation with myself about simply throwing my bike over the bridge into the Slough. Happy I chose not to because that would have deprived me of yet another trip to the bike shop.

Finally, with new tires and tubes and my shoes mostly dry after yesterday’s ride/walk in the rain, I set out again this afternoon. I have a nice 20-mile route out to Ridgefield and back that has some hills and then a 3-mile stretch along Salmon Creek. Other than the omnipresent rain that started as I was at the farthest point on the route from the house, the ride was pleasant enough and in a bit of a shock for this past week, the wheels and tires were actually working as they had been designed to, As I turned to go down the Salmon Creek trail, a couple walking the other way told me the trail was flooded. I kept going anyway and sure enough, the trail was flooded. It didn’t look too bad and I was able to glide slowly through the water to the other side without getting my feet wet. Feeling bold, I kept going and quickly arrived at a much longer, deeper stretch of water. In for a penny, in for a pound, so I pressed on, this time unable to keep from pedaling, and thereby turning my shoes into small swimming pools for my feet. This was in the first half mile of the trail. After creating a small hill, I rolled down right toward another stretch of water. There was a woman and her daughter staring at it, and then the girl started to wade in. She was about 20 feet in and the water was almost to the bottom of her shorts. I was deprived of seeing her explore further because apparently she was late for soccer practice and she and her mom ran out of there. I pushed ahead again and it was at this point I started to wonder if I was really losing my mind. The water was about 3/4 of the way up my tire. Not only that, but this stretch of water was close to 1/4 mile long. Upon reaching the other side, I went up another little hill and then down to face the next section. Having been on this trail hundreds of times over the years, this was the lowest part of the trail, most prone to flooding. I wasn’t 10 feet in and finally realized I wasn’t going any further. The water was up to the top of the tires. It was time to call this off. I retreated back up the hill, found a little trail, and turned my road bike into a mountain bike to get back to the road. It was about then, that the cleat on my shoe came off and so I pedaled the last two miles home with one foot. Good times.

The Salmon Creek Trail and Salmon Creek were one and the same today - and probably for many days to come.