This evening finds me sitting next to the bathroom of a campground just outside of the community of Portage La Prairie. Today the plan was to wake up and zip the mere 70 km to Winnipeg, and like the other plans us mice and men make up, this one went awry.
This morning, I awake to find that my bike, leaning against my bed, is just as damaged as it was last night when we hitchhiked into town from Neepawa. Meagan is in and out of our hotel room a number of times looking for groceries or food or something crunchable as I drag myself from sleep. I am all practicality and purpose when I suggest that I leave my trailer and luggage in the hotel room and that after dropping the bike off at the nearest bike shop for a bit of love and care we should make our way to the nearest greasy spoon diner for breakfast.
Good plan, I think to myself, and head out. My bike is terribly wobbly and the tire scrapes against the frame severely once every revolution. At last count there are 8 broken spokes and at least that many others which have been gouged by the chain falling off the day before. However, my plans for quick and decisive action hit a major stumbling block almost right away. The first bike shop has no mechanic, and the second turns out simply not to exist. The third bike shop (Two Tired Boys Bike Shop) is completely swamped with customers (with appointments; drat them) and the fourth is simply closed.
Well, we leave a message with the family of the fourth bike shop person (Mikes Bike Shop, naturally operated by a fellow known as Ken). Looking for a place to eat, Meagan and I settle on a small diner-ish style restaurant and while away a couple of hours chatting about the distant future (The Long Now Project) as well as a variety of humorous comics and books.
Eventually the diner closes on us, and not having gotten a response from Ken of Mikes Bike Shop, we head back to the Two Tired Boys Bike Shop. Which is now naturally closed. Hmm. Except, that one of the owners is packing up and getting ready to go home. Intercepting him, he gets the message that we could use some help and calls his partner (Dale).
Some minutes later, Dale arrives back at the shop from wherever it is that he was and brings me inside along with the tired and sickly wheel. It rapidly becomes clear that Dale is the most competent and diligent bike shop dude that we have met to date in Canada. This is not to say that the other folks did a bad job or something like that, it is just that Dale knows what it takes to make the job impeccable, and rose to the occasion.
We sit with him for more than two hours as he examines and replaces a full 17 additional spokes from the wheel, adjusts the center, the wheels dish (profile deally), tensions the spokes and finally hands me back a wheel in great shape. From there he goes to Meagan's bike and puts together a list of references for her to work with once we get to Winnipeg so that she can get herself tuned up too.
Before leaving town we scarf an entire delicious pizza from Bozzy's pizza and then head for the hills, or rather the first campground we encounter as we leave town. A full 10km from where we started this morning.
As I type this, and as I mentioned I am sitting on some pavement and leaning against the campgrounds bathroom. Above my head is an electrical receptacle, and I am taking advantage of my cellular data plan to access the Internet. Meagan and I have just spent a number of hours chatting with the local denizens of the campground, and now that she has gone to bed and most people are quietly settled around their respective campfires I am taking the opportunity to write.
And now I am done, so goodnight.
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