Always bring a cone wrench (updated)...

...because nobody wants to fix your busted wheel. Seriously. Everybody seems to hate performing a hub overhaul, seeing that it´s one of the more tedious fixes when it comes to a bike, and mechanics will invent a litany of excuses in order to get out of the task.

Somewhere between La Granja and Ascochinga, I start hearing that familiar ¨ping¨ coming from the back wheel that punctuates every full rotation. A few elimination tests confirm I have a busted ball bearing or possibly a pitted groove in my hub, and since I neglected to bring a cone wrench set with me (one of the more important items you can bring on a long distance journey like this), it means I have to find una tienda de bici.

After camping out in some kind of dual purpose horse pasture/soccer field, I rise early and head for the nearest shop approximately 35km away in La Cumbre, which means a harrowing 6000ft climb up some beautiful sierras before a quick descent to the other side of the mountains.

It is my first big climb with a full loaded bicycle, so needless to say, I´m granny-gearing most of the way to the top. Lucky for me, I was surrounded by some of the most prestine grassy mountainsides--pocmarked by the occasional granite protrusion or herd of cattle/horses--I´ve ever had the pleasure of passing through. It´s springtime here. Everything is beautiful, and all the sights offer a perfect distraction from muscle pain and busted rear hubs.

The quick descent into La Cumbre is coupled with the violent rhythm of a shattered ball bearing bouncing off the granite cliffsides all around me. I´m riding as hard as fast as possible since it´s Friday afternoon, which means it´s my last chance to catch an open shop before everything closes for the weekend. I roll into town in beast mode, passing all kinds of cars while frantically searching for the nearest open shop. The folks at the local ice creamery finally point me in the right direction.

Turns out I´m a little early. La Cumbre´s got a different schedule than most towns. As I soon find out, besides the supermarket and a few kiosks, nothing really opens until around five or six in the evening. It´s not so bad. I could think of worse places to be stuck, and plus this place has kind of the same feel as one of the countless Northern California coast towns along the highway 1.

One ice cream and a wedge of rockefort later, the ¨bike shop¨ opens, and as it turns out, it´s more of a strange combination of a a bunch of different shops, selling everything from top of the line Shimano hubs to fire crackers and crappy beer mugs. I´m not worried. The mechanic´s got all the right tools hanging up on his wall so I know he´s up to the task. Or so I thought...

As soon as a start tapping on my rear hub and telling him ¨this is broken¨ in my terrible Spanish, without even checking the rotation for himself, he´s already shaking his head and telling me ¨no, no, no¨. He takes the wheel off  and--spinning it in his hands--tells me "everything is perfect".

Now I´ve been in this situation before back in California, where I know something screwy is going on with my wheels but I can´t convince the mechanic to crack into the hub and take a look. They´re stubborn, these professional mechanic types. I´m generalizing here, but I find that most of the time bike mechanics are the polar opposite of car mechanics, in that they´ll try really hard to convince you that they´re nothing wrong with your bike. It´s the primary reason why I got into bike building and maintenance in the first place.

So, back to the La Cumbre guy, I tell him he´s not going to hear the problem if he doesn´t put any weight on the wheel. I beg him to take a quick ride, which he finally agrees to. He coasts up and down the street with the rear wheel clicking all the way. I think he finally knows something´s up. He pulls beside me and starts eyeing the rear wheel carefully. He takes it off, unscrews the lockring to the cassette, and just when I think he´s going to start working on the hub, he slaps on a new lockring and tells me "there, it´s fixed".


¨Would you like a box of buckshot with your new lockring?¨

He sends me on my way. I make sure he hears the rear wheel continue to click as I pretend to ride off. I return a few minutes later a tell him the noise is still there. He takes another ride, a much longer one this time.  He returns with a look of confidence and tells me it´s definitely my front hub. "What the hell" I say to myself as I agree to let him do a quick overhaul on my front wheel. I sure as shit haven´t regreased anything in there since I built the damn thing. He´s quick with it, but the end result is fantastic. I now have a freshly greased front hub and a back wheel that continues to click with every rotation.

Nothing was really solved yesterday. He promised to look at my bike again this evening, so I´m crossing my fingers and hoping the issue finally get´s solved. It´s rattling pretty bad in there, so I won´t be surprised if I have to buy a new hub if everything´s ripped to shit, which is kind of what I suspect. Moral of the story, bring cone wrenches and grease with you on a trip like this, because no one wants to fix your shit.

Anywho, looks like I´ll be in La Cumbre for another day or so, which gives me more time to work on some articles.