Today was a daring day because a friend and I were going to bike the Sea Wall. (Yes, this would give us tremendous bragging rights). I left my house heading towards 29th Avenue skytrain (because that was where we decided to meet) when I realized that my bike needed some air. “No big deal,” I thought to myself, “I‘ll get some air at Shell down the road.”
When I got to Shell, I found that they charged 50 cents to use their air. Reasoning that being 50 cents short would mean that I would not have enough change for the Sky Train to Water Front, I decided to ride down to Kingsway and get some air from Chevron. (This was on the way to 29th Avenue so I wouldn’t be losing any ground.)
Surely Chevron didn’t want to suck every penny out of me too. And sure enough the air was free, but the machine was not working. A worker at the gas station just told me to push the button and then stick it in the tube. Not a chance. Instead, in doing so it sucked out every last molecule of air from my front tire. I was in distress.
From a distance I sighted an old man pushing a bike.towards the gas station. His front basket was full of vegetables. I asked him, “Do you know how to use the air at this gas station?” He didn’t follow. Maybe he was hard of hearing. I pointed at my front tire, squeezed it with my hand, and made the opened-palm gesture of nothingness; he did not follow. Instead, he smiled and walked into the station, perhaps to purchase a paper.
“Should I go back to Shell?” But that would require me to trek up that hill. So I decided to walk to 29th Ave Skytrain. It would only take 10 min, tops. From there I could skytrain to another station where hopefully a gas station would be nearby. Having been triply disappointed, I had still a shred of hope. I walked down the street. Above, the clouds looked as if they would open up to thunder or to rain.
If gas stations wouldn’t give me air, maybe I could resort to mobile air pumps. By that I mean other bikers with pumps on them. I looked around for a biker. I looked across the street, and into the distance. No luck. Then I looked over my shoulder and POOF! A biker. I was blocking her path on the sidewalk. Like the old man back at Chevron, she had a basket too. But there weren’t vegetables in it. There was a foot pump!
Playing dumb I asked, “Excuse me, do you know anywhere nearby where I could get some air from my bike?” In response, she gave some directions to get to an auto shop a couple blocks down on Kingsway. Usually, I don’t ask for things directly; I like being offered things. But this occasion was an exception.
I questioned, “Say, how about you lend me your pump?” She agreed and lighted a cigarette. I got some air and she got to feel good about helping a stranger.
Lessons Learned:
- Always carry extra coinage.
- Bring a handheld pump with you when biking.
- Do not be afraid to make use of all available resources.
