Something messed up with my bike today.
I was cycling along when I noticed the back wheel was making a distressing sound, rather like a small dead animal had gotten stuck to the tyre and was being gradually squashed to oblivion.
It wasn’t that though, the tyre was just escaping from the rim. I couldn’t push it back in and so I cycled tentatively to the nearest bike shop.
I walked in and asked for his professional opinion. He told me I needed to let the air out, squeeze the tyre back in and then pump it up.
Simple enough you might think.
He told me I needed a special adaptor thing for his pump outside the shop. He handed it to me and as I moved towards him I proceeded to knock over three of the bikes that he was working on. Classy.
I made it outside, adaptor thing in hand, and placed my bike next to the pump.
After about five minutes of faffing about, and my sunglasses falling off the top of my head, I figured out how to let the air out and squeezed the tyre back in. Then came the pumping up part.
I tried to fit the adaptor onto the valve but succeeded only in dropping it down the storm drain in front of the window where it lay, shimmering amid some particularly unsavoury street detritus.
I looked inside the window and the bike man was staring at me with a mix of bewilderment and horror.
Luckily I have abnormally long arms so I managed to retrieve the adaptor and successfully pumped up the tyre with no further mishaps.
I reckon Danish children are taught basic bike maintenance as soon as they can walk. In England, you learn how to sniff glue and microwave.