Last week I took my touring bike to the shop after neglecting a repair job for a few months. The problem was that the left-hand brake lever component was loose and would slide up and down the handlebar when I put even a little force on it.
I do as much of my own bike maintenance as I can. Doing it myself serves two purposes: first, I learn skills and become less dependent upon specialized, paid-for help; and second, once I know what I'm doing, I do a better job than a paid-for mechanic does because I have more incentive not to be sloppy.
But I didn't know how to fix my brake-lever problem; I didn't know what needed to be tightened. I tried to figure it out by first peeling the rubber flap that covers the brake lever attachment to the handlebar, hoping that doing so would reveal the secret of what keeps the component in place, but that revealed nothing that could be adjusted. Next I peered into the component itself through the small space that opens behind the lever when the lever is squeezed. All I saw was a single tri-bit screw, and I figured that screw was loose and thus was my problem.
I had never before needed a tri-bit screwdriver when doing any bike maintenance, but I've long become accustomed to needing new, specialized bike tools. My latest tool acquisition was a cone wrench, which is an especially thin spanner wrench used for tightening the cones when replacing the bearings in older wheel axles, like those on my Benotto 10-speed.
So that's how I ended up at the bike shop with my touring bike, waiting to have the mechanic use a tri-bit screwdriver to tighten my brake lever. The mechanic took my bike into the back room. For the few minutes he worked on it I tried to watch what he was doing, but I couldn't see what he was doing without crossing into that strange, employees-only area, and I had to resort to asking him what he did when he was done.
Oh, I just used a —mm wrench,
he said.
You mean a tri-bit screwdriver?
I asked.
What? You don't need a screwdriver.
He was now looking at me as though I'm a mechanics imbecile—which isn't far from the truth.
Yeah, I saw there's a tri-bit screw head in the component. Isn't that what you tightened?
What? No. There's a hex bolt right there that adjusts the tightness.
I then took another look inside the brake lever, which I should add is black and made darker from looking in through a small hole with poor lighting. But now knowing what I was looking for, I discerned the grays of a hex bolt easily accessible through the small hole. Now this repair job made sense: nearly everything that can possibly need tightening on a bike is tightened with a hex wrench, and the brake lever's attachment to the handlebar is no exception. That tri-bit screw is only an internal piece of the brake-lever component and never intended for adjustment.
I asked the mechanic what I owed him, and he said four dollars. I paid the four dollars and thanked him for making me feel stupid—but also smarter.
3 comments:
I managed to destroy a rear derailleur by adjusting it repeatedly over the course of a year. That was an expensive lesson.
I remember hearing about a bike shop that charged extra if you want to watch & ask questions as they tune your bike up. I'm not sure how I feel about that, but I like that it's an option.
$4 to "see something in a different light" seems like a pretty good deal this time.
Chad— That's an interesting idea for a bike shop. I maintain that bike shops don't need to secure a profit by "guarding the secrets" of bike maintenance. Rather, I think their potential profit lies in how they've got millions of potential customers out there.
Bobby et al.— Yep, $4 is a good deal. Lessons learned in car maintenance are more likely to cost $400.
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