Tonight was another successful night at the bike co-op. Although, the days when I don't fix a single thing but still go to the co-op are considered successful in my book. Just getting out of the house, going to the co-op, and trying to help out or fix something makes the evening worthwhile. My intention tonight was to tighten my front brakes and tackle my front derailleur. Derailleurs still confuse me, but they're becoming less mysterious with each encounter.

Feeling at Home

Today I arrived and I felt perfectly at home. As I biked over, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. Upon arrival, I jumped right in. I now know the names and faces of the volunteers and feel familiar with the space. It makes such a difference.

I should be clear - the co-op has always been welcoming, but previously, I'd feel a bit intimidated. Sometimes I'd be nervous about using tools correctly or asking for help (again). In reality, everyone has been incredibly kind and helpful. It's natural for spaces with specialized, technical knowledge to feel overwhelming. Tonight, I'm celebrating pushing past it.

Facing the Front Derailleur

Replacing or fixing my front derailleur was daunting. No matter how many times someone tells me a derailleur isn't complicated, I still wouldn't believe them. The truth is, I need to get my hands dirty and figure things out for myself. I realize this approach applies to many aspects of my life.

I approached a volunteer and asked to look at their derailleur, comparing it to mine. Sure enough, mine was wobbling significantly. Another volunteer confirmed something was wrong—likely an issue with the "pivot point." I could see a broken piece of metal where the derailleur should have been seated to hinge correctly.

So they took me over to the spare parts bin — in this case, a massive bin of the things. Hundreds of 'em, and I needed to find one with the cable entry at the top of the mechanism. I resisted the urge to ask for help and just started looking. Similar to programming, you have to do it (and in my case, try not to ask someone to do it for you). Time to unlearn helplessness.

Eventually, I found a suitable replacement. A friendly volunteer gave me the go-ahead, and I installed it myself, without reference materials. Soon, I was shifting through all three front gears. The most satisfying part was the fine-tuning: loosening the derailleur on the seat tube, adjusting cable tension, and positioning the cage correctly.

New Handlebars

With about half an hour remaining, I decided to replace my handlebars—a spare I'd kept in my closet for about a year had come with me in my backpack. I briefly attempted to change the stem but reverted to just swapping the handlebar. No problems there.

One of the volunteers checked my bike before I left. They noticed I'd over-tightened the stem, causing some clicking when turning the handlebars. They helped me loosen the bolt connecting to the star nut and readjust everything. I learned you should loosen bolts alternatively —don't just loosen one entirely, and then the other. I think it's similar when setting a disc-brake - you have to alternative the tightening in a star pattern (if you have a 6-hole one).

The Ride home

I was elated pedalling home. I couldn't believe that everything had worked out, and what's more, the new handlebars, shorter in width, feel so much better. Being able to shift to (almost) all my gears felt satisfying.

After weeks of riding through terrible conditions, slipping, not being able to really leverage my bike to its full potential, it seems in the span of a week I've gotten it into spring-tune-up territory.

Stay tuned for the next instalment — a very special fork replacement.