Un gusto para servirte
Perúi.
Oh, great. Drivetrain is making noise again. Probably because I haven’t cleaned and lubed the chain in awhile. It’s louder than usual. Well, I guess these roads have been pretty dusty. Oh man, it’s really loud. I better just stop and lube it now. I can clean it properly when I get to Huamachuco.
Something’s not right. The chain is slack and wobbling side to side. Should I adjust the chain tension? Ok, let me get my wrench.
That’s weird, I’ve moved the axle bolt all the way back, past where the chain normally becomes taut, but it’s still slack. Wait, what’s going on with the chainring? It’s bending to the right when I pull the axle bolt back. Oh, shit.
Oh, shit, oh shit, oh, shit. The chainring is missing two of the four bolts that hold it to the crank. I didn’t even know that could happen. Where could they have gone? They’re not on the ground below the bike, are they? No, that was a dumb thought — they must have fallen off hours ago. Maybe days ago. Probably on that hour-long, rocky, bumpy trail I descended yesterday afternoon. And look – one of the last two is about to come out! That’s why it’s wobbling. No wonder that sound was so loud.
Ok, ok, what do I do… Should I hitch a ride? Can I ride it? I guess I’ve been able to ride it for some period of time, so I can probably keep going for a bit more. I should tighten that loose bolt though. Or, even better, I should move it to one of the empty spots, so that the two remaining bolts are across from each other and symmetrical, rather than adjacent. Seems like that would be stronger. What kind of bolt is it? Looks like it needs that star shaped key, the T25 Torx I think it’s called. I’ve got that on my multitool.
Where’s my multitool? Wait, where’s the case that holds my multitool? It’s not in my handlebar bag. Oh, God. It must have popped out on that bumpy descent. I knew I should have been more careful about stuffing in all those tools. Or maybe I forgot it at that weed infested campsite last night after I tightened the screws on my cleats?
Doesn’t matter. It’s gone now. Oh shit, oh shit. What if something goes wrong? I can’t fix anything without that tool case. My chain tool, spare chainlinks, allen keys, screwdrivers, extra brakepads, extra bolts. Shit, shit, shit.
Ok, calm down. If nothing goes wrong, I should be able to buy all that stuff new in Trujillo, tomorrow. Let’s just focus on getting to Huamachuco tonight. First, how am I going to fix this chainring bolt issue? Maybe I can tighten it with the point of my knife.
Ha, I can’t believe that worked! Ok – but not a lot of torque, so it might not stay. I’ll just ride slowly and carefully, and stop every now and then to make sure it is still tight. The chainring will stay on with two bolts, but if I lose another one, it will all fall apart.
ii.
Huamachuco. I can’t tell if this is a nice town or a crappy town. The hotel is expensive and the plaza has beautifully manicured bushes, but all the buildings are run down and ugly. Lots of money, not much style. Miners. No way there’s a bike shop here. I’ll have to ask about a moto repair shop. “¿Allá? Muchas gracias.”
“Hola, buenas tardes, necesito una herramienta por mi bici, ¿podría ayudarme?”
Ugh, I have no idea how to say “T25 Torx key” in español, or if that is even a tool that exists in the world of moto mechanics. I guess I should just show him what I want to do.
“Quiero poner eso –” I don’t know how to say bolt — I’ll just point at where I want the bolts to go, “aquí.”
Great, he seems like he gets it. Oh no wait, that’s an allen key. That’s not going to work.
“Es diferente. Es una herramienta como una estrellita.” Like a little star. Best I can do.
Ok, he’s been gone for awhile. What if they don’t have it? I guess I can try to bike to Trujillo like this. It’s a hundred twenty miles, but mostly downhill. A big climb in the morning, though. That would be a challenge with a wobbly chainring.
He’s coming back. Did he find it? Yes! Except that’s just a drill bit. How is he going to use that? Clamping the drill bit with an adjustable wrench? Interesting. Ok, he’s got the bolt out. I’ll hold the chainring steady for him while he puts the bolt in the other hole. It’s working! Oh, thank goodness. The chainring is stiff as can be now, despite the two missing bolts.
“Muy muy bien, muchas muchas gracias. ¿Cuánto puedo pagarte?”
Nothing? He doesn’t want me to pay him? How does this shop make money? What a nice guy. I’ll give him ten soles anyway. Ha, he won’t even take it. Ok, then. “¡Muchas gracias amigo!”
iii.
“Hey Chris, it’s Brian Fuerst. I’m in the middle of nowhere, Perú. I have another mechanical question for you, if you have a minute.”
“Brian! Man – your pictures have been amazing. Just amazing. We are totally living vicariously through you.” Chris speaks slowly with a drawl that always makes me think he’s stoned, but he’s really just high on life. He just loves bikes, camping, and fashioning leather goods in his cabin in the woods that is disguised as bike shop in Topanga, California.
“Yeah, it’s been great. Thanks to the bike you guys built. But hey – so, today I realized I’m missing two chainring bolts. I don’t know for how long. It’s a four-bolt set up with a Shimano Zee M640 crank. A couple questions. First, is it safe to ride? I moved the two bolts so they are opposite each other, symmetrical, on the crank. Second, am I going to be able to find new bolts at an average bike store? Is there a special type of bolt I need for my crank? Sorry, I know that’s a lot of questions. I really appreciate any advice.”
“Ok, ok, no, yeah, no, totally, yeah, I get it. Chainring bolts. Ok. So, yeah. I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Man, sometimes I’m out there riding and look at my chainring, and I’m like – oh – I’m missing two, three, four chainring bolts. Ha, well, not four, then the chainring would fall off. But one or two or three. Oh well! No big deal. As long as you have two left. But even if you lose them all, you’re not going to fall off a cliff or anything, you just won’t be able to pedal. So, it’s totally safe. I’d try to keep at least two on there, though.”
“That’s good to hear. It’s mostly downhill tomorrow until I can get to a city with bike shops.”
“Oh yeah, you’re toootally fine. Just coast! But yeah I’d maybe just stop every now and then, check that your chainring is still there.”
“Ok, and is there a specific type of bolt I need to replace these?”
“Well – you’re in luck. Bike parts are like, the most nuanced things. But I don’t remember ever seeing a non-standard chainring bolt. It’s like, chainring bolts and saddle rails. Those are the only two things on a bike that are totally standardized. No problem. Unless you have some weird setup that I’ve never seen before.”
“Well, you built my bike, so probably not.”
“Yeah, so you’re totally fine. Totally fine.”
“And bike shops should have extras?”
“Yeah, well, I think so, they should, probably. And if they don’t man, just give us a call again. We’ll fedex some to you. And we can like, put it on our instagram. ‘Hey, Brian is on this epic adventure in Perú, and we sent him some new chainring bolts.’ We love doing that kind of stuff. Totally.”
“Ok great, hopefully that won’t be necessary. Thanks Chris, really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, let us know how it works. And keep on posting those pictures. Loving it man.”
iv.
Finally, I’m on the coastal plains, just a few more miles to Trujillo. The chainring has held up fine; I’m just worried about making it to a bike shop and then to the beach hostel I booked before the sun sets. Now that I’m on the coast, and near a big city, biking after dark is supposedly a little less safe. Ah, but my playlist just ended. I’ll pull over for just a minute to change the music.
“¿Hola, qué tal?”
Where did this guy come from on this old school road bike? I don’t recall passing him. He’s dressed in street clothes and carrying a bag of something.
“Hola. ¿Quieres un panecito?” It’s a bag full of bread.
“No gracias, está bien. Tengo muchas galletas.”
He accidentally tore the bag when offering me a piece. He looks a little disappointed but still smiling. But I really don’t want any bread right now and I have to get going.
Oh, but neat, look at that cap he’s wearing. “Club de ciclistas de Trujillo. Chévere.” He smiles proudly.
I figure since he is in a bike club, I should ask him about a good bike shop.
“¿Conoces una buena tienda en Trujillo para arreglar algo en mi bici?”
“¿Qué necesitas?”
I still don’t know the word for bolts, or chainring. I should really look that up. I’ll just point it out to him.
“Pernos,” he says. “Tengo algunos en mi casa. Venga, si quieres.”
Seriously? Is he offering to fix my bike at his house? This is literally the first recreational cyclist I’ve seen in two weeks in Perú. But we’ve exchanged less than ten words – I don’t want to impose on him.
“No, está bien. Puedo comprarlos en una tienda, ¿no?”
“No puedes encontrarlos en una tienda. Venden solo toda la sistema.” He’s insisting. What the hell – it’s not everyday I run into someone who offers to fix my bike. I’ll see what he’s got.
“Ok – vamos. ¿Te sigo?”
“Si.”
“¿Cómo te llamas?”
“Rubén.”
“Rubén. Brian. Mucho gusto. Te sigo.”
But what if this guy I’m following isn’t what he says? After all, isn’t this vaguely near the area where I read that many bicycle tourists have been mugged? No, that was north of Trujillo. We’re east. Still…close enough. We’re turning off the highway into a neighborhood. How far is it going to be? Should I text someone to let them know where I am?
We’re at his house. Typical peruano — dusty, ugly brick building. He’s got six, mostly inexpensive looking bicycles in his entryway. He must be a real hobbyist. Or a thief.
“Espera un ratito.”
He goes upstairs. I type a text to Liz – “I followed a guy to his house who said he had the bike parts I need. Just in case you don’t hear from me again.” No, that last part is too ridiculous. I’m deleting it. Oh snap, he’s back.
He’s got an old plastic butter tub full of screws, nuts, bolts and other bike widgets. He dumps it on the concrete and sifts through the contents. No more than two chainring bolts in the pile. They aren’t exactly the same as mine – they use an allen key rather than a Torx key – but seems like they should fit. He fiddles with them and the others as he installs them, testing by hand that they’re evenly torqued. And he’s finished. Four beautiful chainring bolts. You’d never know they were different unless you tried to use the same tool to tighten all four.
I don’t know what to say. I feel like my español isn’t good enough to express the full extent of my gratitude.
“Que bueno. Te agradezco bastante. ¿Puedo pagarte por los partes?”
He laughs. “No. Un gusto para servirte. ¿Otras cosas que necesitas?”
Other things? He’s already gone so far out of his way to help me. I just want to be able to repay him somehow.
“Todo bien. ¿Como voy a la playa en Huanchaco desde acá?”
“Voy a mostrarte. Espera un momentito.”
He’s going to ride with me there? What a champ. Maybe I can buy him a beer when we get to the beach.
Who is he calling to upstairs? Oh my goodness, look at that puppy. And that must be his daughter, I guess. What a friendly little perrito, it’s jumping all over me. Is his daughter going to join us? He’s adjusting the derailleur on a small mountain bike. ¡Vamos! Aw, the puppy’s so sad that it can’t come.
“El parque. Hospital. Iglesia. Planta de caña.” Rubén is pointing out all the neighborhood landmarks to me as we ride through the dusty grey streets. When we get to the highway, he points west. They won’t be joining me all the way to the beach. Dammit. How do I express my appreciation? I still can’t believe that just happened.
“Muchas muchas gracias, amigo. Lo agradezco bastante.”
“Un gusto, estoy feliz que tu viajes en Perú. Espero que disfrutes mi país.” With people like Rubén, how can you not enjoy Perú?
What time is it? Can I still make sunset at the beach? Let me pull out my phone to check. Oh, I never sent that text to Liz. It still says in draft: “I followed a guy to his house who said he had the bike parts I need.” That part is still true, I suppose. I’ll just add: “He fixed my bike and then he and his daughter rode with me! Can’t believe it.” Sent.
