The World is Flat
Around 1PM we crossed over the Indian River and the intracostal waterwayb once again . The route makes a jog that looks like a squared off “U” on the map to get you from Orchid Island back onto Hutchinson Island and A1A. We decided to take a slight detour into the downtown area to search for a cold refreshment to have with our lunch.
Traversing through the side streets of the docks and industrial area, we rode across railroad tracks a number of times. We had researched tires extensively before the trip and opted on Schwable Marathon Plus. These are German made tires and include an interesting feature known as “Smart Guard”, which is a plastic band imbedded into the tire. The Smart Guard feature is not billed as being puncture proof, but it certainly is added protection. Throughout the course of our journey, we had encountered various road hazards (potholes, broken glass, metal shavings, thorns, rocks, shredded logging tires, bridge grating, etc.) with nary a problem. One of the most common questions we were asked since Maine was “how many flats have you had”, and for 2775 miles we could answer “None”. Considering the load we were carrying and the road conditions, we deemed this to be quite a feat, and had no reason to believe that our good fortune would come to an end.
We had just crossed the train tracks for the third time when Matt started to notice that the rear end was wobbling. At first he thought it was because Mary Ellen was shifting her saddle position. When the stoker moves on a tandem, the bike does shift a bit, so this was not an uncommon feeling. Mary Ellen also noticed that it “didn’t feel right”, and as we rounded a corner, we both came to the realization that there was something amiss. We pulled to the side of the road to figure out what had gone wrong. Matt’s gut reaction was that BOB had sprung a leak. But upon further review it became clear that Olga’s rear tire was loosing air. It hadn’t gone totally flat, but it was no longer road worthy. As we were near the waterfront, we decided to escort Olga on foot for about 1/2 mile where we would have lunch and fix the flat. We had brought two tubes along, so changing a flat while inconvenient, was not going to be a big deal.
Matt removed the tire and inspected it closely, proclaiming that we must of picked up a piece of wire or metal when crossing the tracks. The tire tread was worn but appeared to be adequate for another 100 miles or so of use. With new tube in place, we were ready to go in about 20 minutes. Problem solved, and we were on our way.
Between Fort Pierce and Stuart, there are a number of county beach access parks along A1A. We were in no rush and as it was a warm, clear day, decided to stop about 10 miles south of Fort Pierce and stroll along the beach. The access roads were sand, necessitating that we walk the bike back to the highway. Mounting up we took just one or two pedal strokes and immediately noticed that there was something awry. The rear tire was still loosing air, even with a new tube! This was most unsettling and perplexing. We had ridden a good 10 miles since changing the tube without incident, and now this. Matt was scratching his head, trying to determine what in the world was happening. We still had another new tube as well as a patch kit to fix the other, but it would do no good to change tubes without resolving what was causing the flat in the first place.
Anyone who has had a problem with a car or bike knows the helpless feeling of being on the side of the road 10 miles from anywhere with a bad tire. We started to review our option. It was now about 3 PM, and we had 2, maybe 2 1/2 hours left of good light for riding. The town of Stuart was around 20 miles away and had a bike shop. We weren’t sure if we could make it there before the shop closed, but we could stay the night in a motel and take care of it in the morning. But how were we going to get to Stuart?
Matt pumped the tire up, and decided that what we had was a “slow leak”. Instead of changing tubes, he suggested that we ride as far was we could and when the tire became “squishy”, stop and fill it back up again. Since we had come 10 miles since the first incident, this seemed to be a reasonable resolution to our dilemma. Problem solved again...or was it?
Three miles down the road the back end started to sway. It was going to be a long afternoon. Ultimately we came up with a regime in which we rode as fast as we could for 10 minutes, stopping to pump the tire up and repeat the process over again. It was 5:30 by the time we arrived at the causeway over the intracostal. Stuart was still 5 miles away, our nerves were frayed, the intervals between pumping were getting shorter. It was time to call it quits and find a place to stay, but there was little in the way of choice. We dusted off the credit card and spent the evening at the Marriott resort. It was way beyond our budget but at this point it didn‘t matter. We made full use of the facilities, enjoying the hot tub and sitting around the pool in their terrycloth bathrobes.
Matt removed the rear wheel and took it up to the room where he carefully inspected the tire to see if it was salvageable. Once again he found a small piece of protruding wire that was in contact with the tube. He carefully filed it down, put a patch on the tire, repaired the tube and filled it. It looked like it was fixed but at this point we were a bit gun shy. We decided to wait until the morning, ride it around for while and see if indeed the issue was resolved. Upon reflection, we encountered virtually no mechanical issues on our trip so the saga of our tire was truly just a minor inconvenience. Everyone should be so lucky.
On the following day we continued down the coast without incident. Traffic was moderate to heavy, and sometimes we rode through a corridor of high rise apartments or roadways crowded with beach goers. We were officially in South Florida, and as we crossed the line into Palm Beach county near Jupiter the magnitude of what we accomplished was beginning to sink in. Only one day to go. That night we splurged once again, staying at the Sailfish Marina in Palm Beach Shores. Sipping our beers at the outdoor cafe, we enjoyed our last sunset of the sojourn. We prepared supper in the motel rooms kitchenette and dined by candlelight along side the pool. Fittingly, it was a clear, balmy night. Reggae music drifted across the waterway from the bar on Peanut Island. We sat alone together. It was another memorable day in an adventure of a lifetime.
Traversing through the side streets of the docks and industrial area, we rode across railroad tracks a number of times. We had researched tires extensively before the trip and opted on Schwable Marathon Plus. These are German made tires and include an interesting feature known as “Smart Guard”, which is a plastic band imbedded into the tire. The Smart Guard feature is not billed as being puncture proof, but it certainly is added protection. Throughout the course of our journey, we had encountered various road hazards (potholes, broken glass, metal shavings, thorns, rocks, shredded logging tires, bridge grating, etc.) with nary a problem. One of the most common questions we were asked since Maine was “how many flats have you had”, and for 2775 miles we could answer “None”. Considering the load we were carrying and the road conditions, we deemed this to be quite a feat, and had no reason to believe that our good fortune would come to an end.
We had just crossed the train tracks for the third time when Matt started to notice that the rear end was wobbling. At first he thought it was because Mary Ellen was shifting her saddle position. When the stoker moves on a tandem, the bike does shift a bit, so this was not an uncommon feeling. Mary Ellen also noticed that it “didn’t feel right”, and as we rounded a corner, we both came to the realization that there was something amiss. We pulled to the side of the road to figure out what had gone wrong. Matt’s gut reaction was that BOB had sprung a leak. But upon further review it became clear that Olga’s rear tire was loosing air. It hadn’t gone totally flat, but it was no longer road worthy. As we were near the waterfront, we decided to escort Olga on foot for about 1/2 mile where we would have lunch and fix the flat. We had brought two tubes along, so changing a flat while inconvenient, was not going to be a big deal.
Matt removed the tire and inspected it closely, proclaiming that we must of picked up a piece of wire or metal when crossing the tracks. The tire tread was worn but appeared to be adequate for another 100 miles or so of use. With new tube in place, we were ready to go in about 20 minutes. Problem solved, and we were on our way.
Between Fort Pierce and Stuart, there are a number of county beach access parks along A1A. We were in no rush and as it was a warm, clear day, decided to stop about 10 miles south of Fort Pierce and stroll along the beach. The access roads were sand, necessitating that we walk the bike back to the highway. Mounting up we took just one or two pedal strokes and immediately noticed that there was something awry. The rear tire was still loosing air, even with a new tube! This was most unsettling and perplexing. We had ridden a good 10 miles since changing the tube without incident, and now this. Matt was scratching his head, trying to determine what in the world was happening. We still had another new tube as well as a patch kit to fix the other, but it would do no good to change tubes without resolving what was causing the flat in the first place.
Anyone who has had a problem with a car or bike knows the helpless feeling of being on the side of the road 10 miles from anywhere with a bad tire. We started to review our option. It was now about 3 PM, and we had 2, maybe 2 1/2 hours left of good light for riding. The town of Stuart was around 20 miles away and had a bike shop. We weren’t sure if we could make it there before the shop closed, but we could stay the night in a motel and take care of it in the morning. But how were we going to get to Stuart?
Matt pumped the tire up, and decided that what we had was a “slow leak”. Instead of changing tubes, he suggested that we ride as far was we could and when the tire became “squishy”, stop and fill it back up again. Since we had come 10 miles since the first incident, this seemed to be a reasonable resolution to our dilemma. Problem solved again...or was it?
Three miles down the road the back end started to sway. It was going to be a long afternoon. Ultimately we came up with a regime in which we rode as fast as we could for 10 minutes, stopping to pump the tire up and repeat the process over again. It was 5:30 by the time we arrived at the causeway over the intracostal. Stuart was still 5 miles away, our nerves were frayed, the intervals between pumping were getting shorter. It was time to call it quits and find a place to stay, but there was little in the way of choice. We dusted off the credit card and spent the evening at the Marriott resort. It was way beyond our budget but at this point it didn‘t matter. We made full use of the facilities, enjoying the hot tub and sitting around the pool in their terrycloth bathrobes.
Matt removed the rear wheel and took it up to the room where he carefully inspected the tire to see if it was salvageable. Once again he found a small piece of protruding wire that was in contact with the tube. He carefully filed it down, put a patch on the tire, repaired the tube and filled it. It looked like it was fixed but at this point we were a bit gun shy. We decided to wait until the morning, ride it around for while and see if indeed the issue was resolved. Upon reflection, we encountered virtually no mechanical issues on our trip so the saga of our tire was truly just a minor inconvenience. Everyone should be so lucky.
On the following day we continued down the coast without incident. Traffic was moderate to heavy, and sometimes we rode through a corridor of high rise apartments or roadways crowded with beach goers. We were officially in South Florida, and as we crossed the line into Palm Beach county near Jupiter the magnitude of what we accomplished was beginning to sink in. Only one day to go. That night we splurged once again, staying at the Sailfish Marina in Palm Beach Shores. Sipping our beers at the outdoor cafe, we enjoyed our last sunset of the sojourn. We prepared supper in the motel rooms kitchenette and dined by candlelight along side the pool. Fittingly, it was a clear, balmy night. Reggae music drifted across the waterway from the bar on Peanut Island. We sat alone together. It was another memorable day in an adventure of a lifetime.
posted by Matt and Mary Ellen | 10:43 AM
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