Tags
1986, Atlanta, Bicycle Touring, Fiction, Frankie Oscuro, Hurricane Andrew, J. T. Williams, Joe Kleen, John Davidson, Misty Kleen, Simone Borain, South Africa, Steve Middleton, Zakerey Trutta
Kidd rummaged through the repair tickets that were promised for that day, and found one that suited him. He looked at it and swore. “You know, it sure would be great if our great sales staff could remember to write hook numbers on their tickets when they check bikes in. Now I have to hunt it down!”
“Who checked it in?” Brad asked without looking up from his wheel build.
A woman from South Africa named Simone Borain had tacoed her wheel yesterday when she hit a storm grate. The grate’s grill consisted of parallel supports that ran in the same direction as the street, in violation of code. Last night’s incident had stopped her trek across the U.S. and before she could continue she was in need of an ASAP wheel build.
Simone had flown into BWI from Johannesburg over the Labor Day weekend and after touring around the Washington, D.C. area for a week had left Baltimore, Maryland seven days and nearly eight hundred miles ago and was en route to San Diego which lay another 2,500 miles to the west. She had used U.S. Route 29 for much of her travel to Atlanta and had been dismayed by the amount of discourteous driving behavior she had experienced along the way. She had run into the storm grate near the Buckhead store but Pete had not had a 48 spoke, 700c rim in stock and the Dunwoody store had, so after many phone calls about how best to meet her needs as quickly as possible and without causing too many ripples for Challenge Cyclery Pete and J.T. had decided to send her bike as well as the information about her trip over in the delivery truck and have Brad build the wheel.
Joe had listened to the intricate story unfold as his Dunwoody coworkers J.T, John and Brad discussed the situation tore with one another and via phone with Pete. This morning Darrell had brought her bike, panniers, sleeping bag and tent over and when Brad was done he would call her hotel and she would take a cab over to the Dunwoody store and set off from there. Darrell had brought not only her bike but most of her belongings as she had elected to leave them with Pete rather than haul them around in a cab.
When she left Maryland she had high-tailed it to Atlanta to get as far south as possible in case cold weather hit early. The remainder of her route would take well over a month even if she didn’t cut back from the century plus mileage she had thus far averaged. She planned to travel about 75 miles or so per day and to spend more time mingling among the Americans she met along the way and less simply pedaling. She figured to be in San Diego before Halloween and hoped that crossing the Continental Divide would not prove to be a cold nor wet experience.
“It would be pretty darn cool to fly in a plane half way around the world and then to bike across a continent that you’ve never even visited, wouldn’t it?” ruminated Brad as he laced up the Weinmann concave rim.
“Yeah, I’d like to do that someday,” Kidd agreed. “Zak checked it in, no sense talking to him, he probably left the hook number off on purpose. So what were you guys talking about, Joe? Did you get a teaching job, or what?”
“No, I had an interview but they hired somebody else. What’s the bike description? I bet we can find it pretty easily since we don’t have a ton of bikes on hooks right now.”
They walked over to the repair storage area and found the 1976 Schwinn Varsity decked out in U.S. flag motif. “There, that was easy,” Joe said holding the adjacent bike out of the way to make retrieval of the Varsity easier.
Kidd lifted the bike from its storage hook and rolled it toward the service department. They could hear Zakerey greeting a customer who had entered the showroom. “Good morning! Anything I can help you find today?”
“Man! Bummer! What are you going to do now?” he asked as he lifted the heavy ten speed into the bike stand and clamped it around its seat-tube. Not much chance of damaging that gauge of tubing!
“Well, I spoke to J.T. and John and they figure they can use me here until at least the end of next summer so I told them I wouldn’t look for any other job unless it was an actual teacher’s job. The one I interviewed for was for a teacher’s assistant.”
“Dude! That’s gotta’ hurt, I mean they wouldn’t even hire you to be a teacher’s assistant? Whoa.”
Brad looked up and stared at Kidd while shrugging his shoulders and bringing his hands into the up and palm forward position. “Kidd? Really?”
“No, it’s alright, it’s not as though I haven’t said the same thing to myself. The principal actually said that she would call me if a teaching position came up but that she didn’t think I’d want to stay a kindergarten aide for very long. I haven’t given up, I’m just regrouping.”
“So, you going to use those sew-up wheels you built in tomorrow’s race?” Brad had laced Simone’s Phil Wood high flange hubs in the classic four cross spoke pattern that most fine touring bikes used. Her bike appeared to be custom made. The front fork was spaced out at 126mm between the dropouts as opposed to the standard 110 of most touring bikes. She actually had two rear wheels on her bike and both had freewheels. The wheel that currently sat in the front had a narrower 13 through 24 seven speed gear cluster on it while the Suntour Winner freewheel that lay next to Brad’s wheel truing stand held a 14 through 34.
“Yep, that’s why I built them. Red rims, 32 double butted 14 gauge spokes with alloy nipples laced into Shimano 600 hubs and shod with Vittorio Supercorso tires. They drop over a pound of rotating weight as compared to the Allez’s stock wheels. I think they’ll be a big help out at Stone Mountain.”
“Have you ever ridden out there? That place is hilly! I don’t like riding up some of those hills, yet alone racing up them!” Kidd exclaimed as he removed the Varsity’s rear wheel and grabbed a new tire and tube to replace the one that had had been ridden into oblivion.
“No. Misty and I hiked up to the top of the mountain but we haven’t ridden our bikes. When we went out there we saw a time clock running and it read seven hours and some odd minutes. Then we saw these guys jogging along and we found out that they were doing a fifty mile ultra-marathon run out there! I don’t think I’d even want to do a half century on my bike with that place being as hilly as it is. Too much work for me!”
“And yet you’re going to run six miles and then ride half that far. Isn’t that a bit contradictory?” Brad had grabbed the offset nipple driver that allowed a wheel builder to quickly tighten spokes to the point where the nipples covered any visible spoke threads. Getting the spoke length exactly right was critical when using a single wall rim like the Weinmann Concave but in this case the spoke length calculation had already been done by the previous wheel builder. Since the old spokes had been a perfect length and they were using the exact same rim and reusing her hub Brad was absolutely certain that the spokes he had selected would be an ideal length.
“Hey, Brad! How come you didn’t reuse her old spokes? That would have saved what, almost fifty dollars for her wheel build?” Kidd inquired as he threw the old tire and tube in the 30 gallon trash can that sat in the shop’s corner.
“You never want to reuse old spokes, especially on a rear wheel and especially on one that’s going to be carrying heavy loads like this one is. They’d start snapping as soon as she hit any kind of hill. You run those spokes at 200 pounds of tension and then detension them with a crash and then retension them with a rebuild and you’ve just created a ticking time bomb. You always want to use new spokes.”
“That’s not what John told me. He said it was fine.”
“Well John doesn’t know everything and what happens when we have to build a wheel over again? We get to charge more money. I don’t want to be in any way responsible for some lady having a problem with her wheel on her fully loaded, solo, trans-American bike trip, do you?”
“No!”
“Then we use new spokes, charge her for them and do it right the first time, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Cool.”
John’s voice called from the intercom. “Joe? Can you come see me in my office, please?”
“Be right there! Hey, Kidd, if I don’t get right back to build this bike take over for me will you? It’s due at noon.”
“Sure. I just need to finish these two tires and rear tube and I can do that next.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Joe walked to John’s office and knocked on the door frame. He looked up and said, “Joe, how you doing today? Come in.”
“You want me to close the door?”
“Uhh, no. Not this time I just wanted to say that it’s good to have you on board and to give you a store key and an alarm key. You have 90 seconds from the time you break the magnetic door seal to get the key in the alarm and turn it, okay?”
“Yeah, I can do that. I’ve never used an alarm key before.”
“It’s really easy in the morning, just be sure not to take too long hanging up your bike or whatever and get to the alarm on time. Probably best if you just lean the bike against a bench or whatever, hit the alarm and then take care of personal business. Same thing goes for getting out of here at night. You have 90 seconds after you turn the alarm on to close and lock the door. Okay?”
“Yes, I got it. Hurry. Anything else?”
“Yes, though I don’t think I have to tell you this. This key is for store usage, not personal. I’ve walked in here after hours and found key holders in here with their girlfriends taking care of the wrong kind of business, if you know what I mean. The key is so you can come in early and not have to worry about somebody else having to already be here. I know you’ll be respectful and we won’t have any trouble, right?”
“Yeah, I definitely won’t be bringing any girls in here for after-hours liaisons or the like. Thanks, John, I appreciate the confidence.”
“Well, you’ve earned it. J.T. told you that you’re totally in the clear about the missing money?”
“Yeah, he said something like that. Uhm, I may have spilled the beans to Frankie and Brad about that. I mentioned something in passing and they didn’t seem to have any idea what I was talking about.”
“Well, it can’t be helped now. We should have told you not to say anything but we’re pretty sure we have the mystery wrapped up. We’re just tying all the loose ends together and then I think we’ll be certain.”
J.T.’s voice called over the intercom. “John? Can you come help on the sales floor? We’re a little under out here.”
“Yeah! Joe and I’ll be right there!”
The rush kept John, J.T., Frankie, Zakerey and Joe hoping until after noon. Steve Middleton showed up just after noon to pick up the Cimarron Frankie had sold him and Kidd was just completing the assembly. Joe was about to head into the service department to see what else needed to be done when a young woman walked in and looked all around the store. Joe approached her and said, “It looks like you may be looking for something in particular? Is there anything I can help you find?”
The woman was roughly Joe’s age, five feet four inches tall with hair that could be described as either dark blonde or light brown. She was thickly built but seemed solid everywhere. Her clothes were tight and her skirt was short. She had her hair pulled back off of her forehead and was using a bandana to keep it there. Atop the bandana was a pair of Foster Grant pilot style sunglasses. “Yes,” she said with an accent that made her speech a little difficult to comprehend. “My name is Simone Borain and I believe you have my gear and a new wheel for me here.”
“Simone! We do have your stuff here. Did Brad call and let you know that your bike was ready?”
“Indeed he did, a little over thirty minutes ago. I grabbed a taxi and came right over. Check out time was 11:00 O’clock and I was getting a little nervous about getting on my way.”
“Sorry that we made you nervous. Let me get your bike.”
“Fantastic.”
Joe found the bike siting on its two legged Pletscher center stand. Fully loaded Simone’s bicycle weighed nearly 100 pounds and the Pletscher was one of the few stands that could accommodate that much weight. Joe had never seen a double legged center stand on a non-motorized bike before and he thought it was a fascinating design. As he rolled the bright yellow bike out he noticed extra tubes that ran from the bike’s head-tube to the rear wheel drop-outs, another feature he hadn’t seen before. The bike was equipped with heavy duty racks front and rear and an additional set of low-rider racks bracketed the front wheel. It appeared that anything that could be carried by bicycle Simone Borain had chosen to bring with her from South Africa.
“That is an amazing bicycle you have there!” he declared sincerely. “How long have you had it?”
“Oh, about five years now. I got it right after I finished at University. The places this baby has been! Do you do any touring?”
“Not like this! Misty and a couple of friends and I rode from Hartford to central Vermont and back two summers ago but we weren’t loaded down like this! We carried two backpacking tents and we each had a set of rear panniers and a handlebar bag. We shared a camp stove and had our own sleeping bag and personal gear. I don’t think we had thirty pounds of gear each, which was good because Misty’s bike didn’t have a triple on it and climbing the White Mountains was hard work.”
“Misty your girlfriend?”
“She was. We got married in May.”
“Well! Congratulations! Newlyweds, eh?”
“Yes. One hundred and five days.”
“One hundred and five days! My, aren’t we precise!”
“Oh, I noticed earlier this week on her birthday that we’d been married 101 days and it kind of stuck in my mind.”
“Fantastic! So you went touring up in Vermont and such? Anywhere else? How about in your western frontiers?”
“No, I’m afraid not. I rode from Hartford down to D.C. once to visit a friend but that’s really all the cycle touring I’ve ever done.”
“How’d you like D.C.?”
“It was beautiful but very crowded. Hartford is where I’m from and it just has a lot more open space between the cities.”
“I know exactly what you mean! South Africa’s mostly wide open spaces with some major and minor cities popping around. I bet Connecticut’s more like that.”
“You’ve never been?”
“Nope. First time to The States. I’ve pedaled around Africa, Europe and parts of the near east but this is my first time to The Americas. How ‘bout you? Much of a traveler?”
“Well, not a world traveler. I’ve been to thirty six of the fifty states and Canada a few times and we went to Jamaica on our honeymoon.”
“Oh, I bet that was lovely! When did you do that? In May?”
“June, actually. We got married in New England and then drove down here and hung out for a week and then flew to Jamaica for a week. It was good except I got a little sick. I think the water was contaminated from hurricane Andrew that hit there just before we arrived. I didn’t drink the water from the tap but I had ice in my drinks. Anyway, it was a couple of rough days but we had a lot of fun.”
“New England? Oh, right! That’s what you call the far north east corner of The U.S., isn’t it? Well I would hope that newlyweds could enjoy themselves on their honeymoon in paradise. So anyway, how’s my wheel? Good as new?”
“Yes. Brad rebuilt it with an identical rim and all new DT 14 gauge spokes. I know he worked really hard on getting it to just the right tension and then when he was all set he took your bike out fully loaded for a little spin to make sure that it stayed true. I think if you can avoid unfriendly storm grates that you’ll do great. Ha! I made a pun.”
“You know that the first part of a pun is P U, right? Well, good! That should work out fine. I hope the streets and the drivers are a bit more cyclist friendly out west than they are around here. Getting down here from Baltimore was rough.”
“Yeah, I found our tour in Massachusetts, Vermont, New York and Connecticut much more pleasant than my ride through New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Maryland. Maybe it was because when I rode in New England I had company and when I rode to D.C. I was solo. I felt kind of exposed and vulnerable riding all by myself.”
“Yeah, you get used to it. I’ve done tens of thousands of kilometers solo and other than the occasional bad stretch I don’t recall things being as difficult in other countries, not even as a single girl in Egypt which I was warned about. So how much do I owe you?”
“Uhm, let’s see. The total with tax is one hundred twenty three dollars and eight nine sense.”
“All right. I’ll have to give you a traveler’s check for the one hundred and then I can pay cash for the twenty three odd.”
Joe watched as Simone signed the traveler’s check. Both signatures matched and he gave her eleven cents back from her $24. “So, what’s the best way to head out of here this time of day on a Saturday afternoon?”
Joe grabbed the high detail local map that Challenge Cyclery kept on hand for cyclists. After a quick consult Simone figured the best way for her to head west and meet back up with her intended route. Before she left she pulled out a note book and asked, “Hey, Joe, would you mind if I jotted down your address? I’ll send you a post card from out west.”
“No, I wouldn’t mind at all! That’d be cool. Let me know when you get back to South Africa and I’ll write you there.”
“Fantastic. Now what is it?” She pulled her two water bottles from their holders and shook them. Finding them sufficiently full she put them back into their cages.
“Joe Kleen, that’s K, L, E, E, N, 517 Cimarron Parkway, Atlanta, GA, 30350.”
“How do you spell Cimarron?”
“C, I, M, A, R, R, O, N. U, S, A of course.”
“Right. Well that’s fantastic. I’ll drop you a line.” She opened the side pocket of her oversized rear pannier and took out Avocet touring shoes that she slipped on before replacing them with the sandals she had been wearing when she entered the store. She grabbed bike gloves, she caught Joe’s eye as she slipped out of her skirt until he realized she was wearing bike shorts beneath it. She rolled the skirt into a tube which she also placed in the pannier and then extended her hand to Joe. “Well, Joe Kleen, you have been the high point of my Atlanta sojourn and other than you I gladly flick your city’s red clay dust from my feet. You’ll be hearing from me!”
Joe took her hand in his and held it as he replied. “I look forward to it. Good luck and be safe!”
“God willing!” she said as she pecked his cheek and rolled her bike out of Challenge’s showroom.
keithakenel 