On this particular trip, my brother Robert and I were really looking forward to the experience and were ready to embrace it. The weather was playing tricks on us and kept threatening to make our weekend a couch tour. We found a window of, somewhat clear, weather and headed out with some extra gear in case we got caught by Mother Nature. After about an hour of climbing it was time to descend. If you don't know much about construction and geometry on a road bike, you quickly learn every small flex, degree of angle, and slight variations on your bike on these roads. You have to know your bike- well. Some of these roads are extremely technical and cornering and braking skill is paramount. It isn't common to see cars on these roads, but when you do, it is also common to try and outrun them or overtake them and leave them in your dust. You can go as fast as your skill and balls will allow.
After swooping in and out of corner after corner, I went in pretty hot to an off-camber turn that got progressively tighter. As I leaned harder on the front tire and tried to mimic Valentino Rossi, I pushed a bit wide, took a deep breath and looked back just in time to see Robert in "oh shit" mode. Robert wasn't quite as lucky and grabbed a bit more rear brake than I had and skidded- hard! He pumped the brakes a few times in a mad attempt at human ABS, but the wet roads weren't being too kind to his SRAM Force brakes and traction was fickle. He did recover however, and we laughed more out of relief.
After a few miles we pulled over to recoup and take inventory. That's when I noticed his rear tire. He had literally skidded through the layers of rubber, and was staring at the inner casing. The tire was hanging on for dear life and bulging in all the wrong directions. Unfortunately, we were miles from our home base and in these parts it's not like you can call AAA. Since we survived a few miles of riding in the tire's condition, we decided to risk it and ride as much as we could in cautious tempo and see how far we could get. It didn't last and it quickly blew, so we were forced to think of backup plans. Would I ride back solo and grab a car and pick him back up? There were a few options, none which seemed that great. We were a solid couple of hours from any sort of resolution.
I then decided to give the old dollar-in-the-sidewall trick a try. I had learned this years ago mountain biking and figured it couldn't hurt to give it a go. The theory is that USA currency isn't paper, but rather a pretty strong cloth that we might be able to use as an improvised patch between the tire and the inner tube. After a few basic Origami folds to increase the dollar's strength, we got everything back together and crossed our fingers. We blew the tire up with enough pressure to ride gingerly and head toward a bike shop I knew about that was roughly within 7 miles.
We made it about 6 miles when it blew through the dollar bill. He started walking and being so close to the shop, I rode ahead to see if they had a tire to help fix our problem. Shortly after I found he shop and as fate would have it, I found a perfect match; same brand and exactly what he had been riding. A cell phone call and about 15 minutes later Robert showed up and set to fixing this set back. A credit card later and a bit of wrenching and it was time to head home. Lesson learned, and an issue I wouldn't have believed if I hadn't witnessed it myself. By the way, it started pouring 5 minutes after we walked in the door. Someone was looking after us that day.
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