Rachel was taking the kids to a park in the Arden area, so I put my mountain bike on the bike rack and tagged along for the ride. Once we got there, I got my bike down and started making my way over to the recreational equipment retailer (referred to from this point as RER). I decided that rather than take the most direct route, which would take me down some super busy streets, I would utilize the off road capabilities of the mountain bike and explore the gravel paths along the levee between Cal Expo and the river.
Turns out the reason I've never been there is because it dead ends at the business 80 overpass that goes over the American River. So I rode back to where I had first got on the bike trail along a weedy and overgrown dirt path below the levee (or whatever you call it). I didn't mind the backtracking; it was cool: I was getting some exercise and seeing a new part of the trail system along the American River, as well as a different view of Cal Expo.
Once I got back on track, I made my way to RER without incident, made my purchase, and got back on the bike trail. And that is where my story really begins.
Pretty much as soon as I got back on the bike trail, which was maybe 1/2 a mile away from RER, I saw that my rear tire was going flat, and I didn't have anything to fix it with. I didn't panic though. Instead, I called Rachel. But Rachel didn't pick up. (I would find later that she had left her phone at home.) I remained calm. I thought about what I could do. My mind flashed back to something I had read in an issue of Bicycling Magazine: You can fill a tire with leaves and grass and it will work well enough for you to pedal to wherever you need to go. I decided that there was no better time or place to put this technique to the test. I found a nice leafy tree, took off my tire, and started to pull leaves off of branches, crumple handfuls up and cram them into the tire. This took a lot of time and, incidentally, a whole lot of leaves. (I wish I had taken a before and after picture of the poor tree that started the day full leafy branches and ended the day, entirely barren of green up to about 7 feet high.)
During the time I was working on filling my tire with leaves, a number of people rode by on their bikes. At first I felt a little goofy, embarrassed even, but as more and more people passed by, without saying a single word, I started to get a little angry. I mean I'm filling my tire with leaves! Obviously I'm having a problem, but for probably a good 20 minutes, maybe even a half hour, no one stops and asks if I need any help. Finally, when I'm almost done, a guy finally stops and asks if he can do anything for me. I thanked him and explained to him what I was doing and that I had read it in a magazine, so even though it looks kind of crazy, it should be fine. He tried again to offer to help, telling me he had a patch kit and a pump. He also told me that he'd definitely never heard anything about filling up a flat tire with leaves and looked quite skeptical. I thanked him again and told him I was good, but to be honest, I was wondering if I should take him up on his offer. I didn't though. I was committed to seeing this through; although to be honest, by this point I had called Rachel at least twice more and had also left a message on the house phone. In survival situations, one should use every means at their disposal--except, I guess, the most efficient (i.e. an offer of a patch and a pump for a flat tire).
As soon as I got my tire back on, I hopped on the bike, began to pedal, and found that . . . it kind of worked. It wasn't a smooth ride by any means. It felt like I was riding over a bunch of 1 to 2 inch bumps, but my rim was off the ground . . . for about half the rotation.
I decided my problem was that I rushed the job a little towards the end. I didn't pack the whole tire well enough. So I pedaled a little ways to a suitably leafy tree and started packing more leaves into the half of the tire that needed it. This time around I had a few people ask me if I was needed any help, but I politely refused. I felt pretty confident that my leaf filled tire was going to work. Plus, I was less than a mile away from the end of the bike trail, and I was sure Rachel was going to call me back any minute.
When I finished, most of the tire was filled enough to keep the rim from touching the ground, but there was still about 3 inches of the tire that needed more filling. But by this time I've been working on my bike for like an hour, and I was done. So I just rode it for about 5 minutes and almost made it off of the bike trail and into downtown. As I was walking the bike the final 100 yards towards the end of the bike trail, I realized my front tire was going flat too. I had found a bunch of thorns in my back tire and had meant to check the front tire before leaving, but by the time I had finally finished working on the rear tire, I had completely forgotten.
So at this point, I was over 4 miles away from my house, I had two flat tires and no access to public trees nor any desire to try to stick more leaves into my tires. I tried to call Rachel a couple more times, but I was a man without faith.
When I got home I saw Rachel's phone on the piano bench in the living room, and she actually pulled up right after I had poured myself a glass of water. I wasn't mad at her for very long though, because she handed me a bag of tacos.
Reflecting on my experience, there are a couple of things I've decided. First of all, I would say that the experiment was ultimately successful: Filling your flat tire with leaves and grass works as an emergency fix. It takes a lot of time and you have to be careful to pack the entire tire, but when you have no other options (because your wife doesn't have her cell phone with her) it will work. So I'd say, overall the experiment was a success. If it ever really came down to it, I would have the confidence that I could make it work. But looking back, what I really should have done was right at the beginning, when I first saw the flat tire and knew I didn't have what I should have had to fix it, I should have walked back to RER, bought a tire and a pump, and ridden home with a little less money and a lot less frustration. But then again, if I had done that, I would have had to wait a long time for my tacos.
Anyway, the picture at the top should make sense now.
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