Flashes of Panic

Since I could see cords in the sidewalls of my bike tires, last weekend I dropped it off at the Laughing Dog bike shop in town. The guy who runs the Laughing Dog shares my first name, and since there aren’t many of us, we try to stick together.

He replaced the knobbies which had been on (so far as anyone knows) since the bike was new a dozen years ago with a set of “slicks.” These are still mountain-bike fat tires, but instead of big chunky treads like those on running shoes, these only have knobs around the edges; the center of the tire has a very subtle tread, more like coarse sandpaper or tennis shoes.

I rode in on the new rubber for the first time this morning. The difference is remarkable. The thing that struck me the most was the noise, or actually the lack of it. Aside from the wind in my ears, all I could hear was the hiss of the chain in the front chain-ring. No hum from tread on pavement. The other thing was the lack of resistance. I rolled like a ball-bearing, and I was able to push bigger gears for most of the ride than I had before. (I have to admit, it’s possible that I simply had more air in the tires than I’d been able to keep in my old ones.)

I’ve probably spent more time on the bike this summer than I have for years, just trying to ride in at least once a week. I’m not sure how much gas I have or haven’t saved, but it hasn’t hurt me any.

Now playing: We’ll Inherit The Earth from Don’t Tell A Soul by The Replacements