Staying in for Lunch at the United Bicycle Institute

“Your wheels are due on Tuesday. Spokes laced and trued. All the rest of the bicycle maintenance tasks you will need to have signed off on as we go. We will learn to rebuild everything from hubs to derailleurs, head-sets to hydraulic brakes, cassettes to cranksets. There will be a practical, hands-on final and a 100 question written test.”

A wash of bafflement flows through me. I look over at Oaks and he raises his brows and widens his eyes over his N-95 mask at me. I don’t think either of us really knew what we were in for we when we signed up for the course. I grin at him to hide my anxiety and then lean forward and ready my ears to act as funnels for each and every word the instructors want to impart. I can do this.

This time Oakley and I are not on a cross-country bicycle adventure, this time we are on a bicycle learning adventure. I have signed us both up for a two-week, professional-level bicycle course at the United Bicycle Institute in Ashland, Oregon. It is the most respected program of its kind in the country. I figure, if we are going to run Lighthouse Bikes; Tours Rentals and Repairs, we better get a handle on the repair part.

Problem is, Oaks and I both have our learning challenges. I am not detailed oriented, at all. I am also fairly uncoordinated and am adverse to following directions. Not to mention I have poor eyesight and lack depth perception.

And Oakley? He is the captain of the ADHD team. He not only rides both ends of the seesaw, but also has the ability to not see with his eyes open. However, I am happy once again to have him by my side as I look around at our fellow class mates.

It is like we are in a different country, one in which they speak bikology. They discuss bearing materials and grades, Newton Measurements on torque wrenches, hub flanges and Swiss-ring nut tools the same way that I might talk about how cute my dog is. I am in awe of them. My brain scrambles and climbs over boulders of thoughts and ideas hour after hour. Eight hours a day, forty hours a week. Once an hour we break up into pairs and have to build or dismantle the part of the bike that we have just been lectured about.

Oakley decides early on that he is not going for his certificate which decreases his anxiety considerably, but I, competitive with myself to the end, decide that against all odds, I want to make a valiant try.

The first real test is the wheel build. Sounds easy enough. Take a rim and a bunch of measured spokes and weave them in a specific pattern to connect the rim to the hub flanges. Tighten them equally and ta-dah, a nice, round wheel. But as I look around at the quick, graceful weaving of the spokes by my classmates I panic. Instead of taking the time to figure it out I rush, pell-mell into the process; I don’t want to be the last to finish!

They all look like they are weaving beautiful braids where my spokes stand all akimbo. The more I try to bend and force the spokes to conform to my will, the more my wheel looks like it has been in a terrible accident. they bend and arc and stray in a most unsound manner. A rats nest. I begin to feel a little sweaty. One of the instructors sidles up to me. “You can stay after class tonight or stay in at lunch.” He means this in a supportive and kind way, but Oakley over hears and lets out a little cackle.

“You have to stay in for lunch!” He whispers as we sit back down in our seats. And so it goes. Every exercise sends me scurrying-trying desperately to remember the order of the necessary washers, bearings and caps, while my classmates elegantly reconfigure their bikes again and again. I am learning, but in a messy, looping sort of a way. Oakley enjoys the class, but my struggles delight him even more.

Every night we limp back to our hostel and I reread the days lessons while Oakley hangs out with our roomie-a 19 year old bicycle savant whose course is being paid for by a teacher who saw his promise. They make Annie’s mac and cheese and salad in a bag and watch horror films while I study. It feels like I am the nerd living in a boys dorm room, and I love every minute.

We have one week to go. To be honest, the chances of me passing are very low, but that is okay. I still haven’t finished my wheel-I am staying in for lunch again tomorrow, but I am eager to keep trying to absorb everything these people have to teach. I am astounded at all the intricacies in bicycle technology and at all the people over the years, whose brains have worked in such a different way than mine and dreamt them up. I have never really considered them before and they have made my life so much fun.

It is like this part of my brain has never been turned on, until now. The test will not measure what I learned, because what I am learning is immeasurable.