Just a quick morning ride, clock up the kms and work on getting fit again. First half, all good, then on the return leg, I can hear a rhythmic rubbing sound, like a leaf stuck on the back tyre rubbing the frame or brakes with each revolution, no biggie. Then pedalling becomes ever so slightly harder, then the next bump in the road tells me it’s not a leaf. I’ve got a flat.
No problem, I’ll just change the inner tube. I’ve got tyre leavers, patches and glue, and even a whole spare inner tube. But no pump…. Riding on my own this morning and not many cyclists about, so I’ll have to do the unthinkable and call the missus to pick me up.
As you all know, this is an ultimate last resort as the kids will not allow me to forget this rescue probably for years to come. Turn the phone on. Dead. Oh dear.
The next 45 minutes involves walking along the road in cycling shoes, trying to find an open cafe, petrol station, whatever, and asking in crummy German whether anyone has an iphone charger. Nobody has a iphone charger… and petrol stations only have pumps for Schrader valves… People kindly suggest I use their phone to call home. Except I don’t know my number. It’s in the phone…
It’s 25kms back home. My Sunday is not looking so good anymore. Until a most friendly German jogger named Jurg, pushing his daughter to the bakery to buy some croissants, asks if he can help. He has a pump, which fits a Presta valve! He is happy to help, no problem at all.
Thank you Jurg, you literally saved my Sunday.