Reportedly there are automotive mechanics who resile from attempting to repair a bicycle. Yesterday I had an encounter with both realms of skill; my car showed a yellow engine warning sign and the left pedal of my tricycle was repeatedly cracking.
Naturally my immediate reaction in both instances was to do nothing – that is, apart from turning the car on and off and opening and closing the door; and jarring my foot against the tricycle pedal, hoping in both instances the problems would just disappear. They did not.
In a moment of insight we (my partner and I) decided to read the car manual. Actually – because I have a phobia of recipes and instruction manuals it was my partner who unfolded some intelligence on the internet about these bothersome warning lights. Here is what he learned:
While it seems like the scariest, this light (engine warning) is one the most ambiguous because it relates to anything having to do with the car’s motor and emissions system. The potential issue could be as minor as a loose wire, an ill-fitting gas cap, or a worn solenoid. Or it could mean something far more serious is wrong in the heart of the engine itself.
This information did little to assuage the problem. I decided I would have to make an appointment with the dealership. Meanwhile however – in a moment of final despair – I stopped the car alongside the road and asked my partner to check that the fuel cap door (which was on his side of the car) was properly secured. He did so. I turned the car on again – and PRESTO! – the warning light was gone. All we could speculate was that yesterday – when I had filled the gas tank – I had improperly closed the fuel tank door. While driving for the next several minutes we kept looking for the warning light to reappear but it did not.
Now as for the tricycle problem, I need to back up a bit. Earlier yesterday morning while conducting my usual morning cycle about the neighbourhood – and while repeatedly fussing wth the left pedal which was on again, off again making its cracking sound – I chanced to pass by a truck with a van attached parked on the side of the road in front of a house. The van was open at the back, displaying a bicycle on a rack with an infinite number of tools hung on the interior walls. On closer examination I saw a man inside the van working on the rear part of the bike. Then I looked on the outside of the van and read “Roger’s Mobile Bike Repair”.
While you might think I could not believe my fortune, I had yet to resolve a number of outstanding issues. First, my tricycle was under warranty. I would have to consider whether I might possibly corrupt the warranty by having an unauthorized agent investigate the problem. The reality however was that in order to use the warranty I was probably required to get the tricycle to the agent in Ottawa (which of course I could not do in my car); or, I would have to wait – no matter what might be the travel expense – until the agent might be in Almonte (which was not likely to be anytime soon). Second, for the past decade or more the local agent with whom I had dealt was Bill Barrie of Almonte Bicycle Works. Barrie normally required the device to be taken to his office on Bridge Street – although recently he had picked the trike up and examined it (for other unrelated reasons) at his office. He told me then he was not entirely comfortable dealing with the trike as it was unfamiliar territory.
After considering these matters, I approached the man in the van and asked whether he had a business card. He did not. But he suggested I simply go on the internet to get the required information – which of course is a perfectly modern way of doing things. I felt hideously old-fashioned for having asked for a business card!
This would have been the end of the matter (even though when I arrived back home I saved the Roger’s website on my computer. It was serendipitously later that afternoon when returning home from our Sunday drive to Flower Station that I saw Roger’s van parked immediately outside our apartment building. I could no longer resist the temptation. Once again I approached the gentleman and asked whether it were too late in the day for him to have a look at my tricycle pedal problem. To my surprise he said he would be engaged in his present work for another 1½ hours after which he would telephone me.
I waited in the apartment for his call. As forecast he called at the exact time. I collected the trike from the garage and brought it to him for his examination. With the skill of a physician he uncorked and screwed parts, daintily checking interior signs, lightly lubricating a piece, then reassembling the entirety before concluding the cracking sound was gone. I then rode the trike to check the result. It felt much improved. And the annoying sound was gone.
Then – while Roger rode the trike himself – he signalled an imperfection with the gear changer. He ended making several minor alterations after which I rode the trike again and felt an improvement. Roger then left. However, after he had vanished, I discovered the lowest gear was not staying in line but persisted to shift from one gear to another. I then emailed Roger to ask whether he might look at it the next time he was in the neighbourhood. Within minutes he replied, saying he would come immediately. It was now late in the day, on a Sunday, approaching 7 o’clock or more. He reappeared and re-examined the gear problem which he adjusted accordingly. We ended up getting the adjustment made to a level we both felt was suitable.
