"I want to ride my bicycle..."

Well, today had an interesting turn of events. I was ready for a relaxing afternoon since I had another Tata bus system + TESCO vs. Carla episode this morning. My loyal followers are keenly aware of the checkered past TESCO and I have so I'll spare you the details, let's just say they won this round, but the war isn't over.

So- when I returned from my run and found a slip in my mailbox, I was a bit excited. It was for a package to be picked up at the post office, and that was probably a good thing since I love getting mail. Well, I decided I'd ride the bicycle to the post office. No big deal right? But the front tire needed pumping up. So, I searched through the "random things left by Robert the previous teacher" box and located a pump. Off I went. Initially I was a bit skeptical, as the bottom of the pump was just a hole and didn't seem to have any area that would seal against the tire to get air in. So, I putzed with it a bit, and found that the nozzle is tucked away in the handle - SCORE one Carla! I assembled the pump and was ready to rock. I got the bike out - and turned it upside down on the sidewalk to pump air in the tires. I'd have left it upright, but the kickstand isn't the most reliable thing I've seen so I resorted to the ways of Tatum Street.

With bike overturned, and pump in hand, curiosity was aroused in the neighboorhood, and (65+ year old) Zsolt came out to check and see what I was doing - I mean, sit on the steps for a while. No problem, until I still couldn't get the pump to connect with the tire... so after a few minutes of me being uncomfortable and Zsolt sitting with a sly grin - he walked over to me and pointed out that the pump I was using was for an auto. Crap. Thanks for the help Zsolt. As I prepared to turn the bike back over, one of the pieces fell out of the knob that sticks out of the tire that you pump air into (note that my experience with changing tires is ZERO - I have pumped air in them before, and in 7 tri-athalons, NEVER needed to change a tire. That's what Como bike shop is for right?) Ok, now what. Zsolt looked at me, I looked at him, and we both simultaneously said "nem jó." So - I decided it was time to take the tire tube out and try to find a new one. Well, that's easier said than done, especially for one with no bike tire experience. Zsolt returned to his front row seat to watch and see what I was going to do next- I mean, to relax. I fiddled around a bit, and decided that I needed to retrieve some tools from upstairs. Keep in mind that my "tools" amount to a wrench, a screwdriver set from TESCO, a heavy duty box cutter, and lots of anchors for the failed ceiling fan attempt. I returned with the wrench and a short phillips screwdriver. As I returned, so did Zsolt, with his mega flat head screwdriver - now apparently we were a team. We wrangled the tire tube out, after trying to detach the entire tire to no avail - the both figuring out that it was attached different than we expected.

As we worked, there was the beginnings of a strangely familiar cat whine coming from where my apartment is. Boo had heard my voice, and had ventured out onto the deck - or she is just THAT Hungarian that she needs to watch everything going on outside too, and happened to notice me there. At any rate, while Zsolt and I were working, she leaned further and further over the ledge of my deck to try and get my attention. I was afraid she was going to fall. Geeze.

I tried to calm her down, Zsolt was un-doing the tire, and we eventually got a tube in my hand and the wheel off. Now, since my pump didn't work, I knew I'd have to get a new one of those, and the tire tube was fairly old, so I just brought it with on my quest to find a bike shop that was open at 4:45 in the afternoon. Not an easy task in a country that abides by the family dinner and sabbath Sundays like the USA did in the 1950's.

I set out for the store (and the post office) and befuddled my way through enough Hungarian to buy a new tube, and just the piece that was needed for bicycle tires on the pump. There is apparently an interchangable part - so the clerk showed me that I didn't need a whole new pump, just the bike tire part. Phew. A whole $5.00 later, I had a new pump part and a new tube.

I had tried to park my bike outside the front of the apartment and just lock it to a tree while I was gone, but apparently that's a MAJOR faux pas in Hungary. Zsolt's wife came home from the store and said that in all of Hungary, after 5 minutes they'll take your bike and you won't know where it is. I don't know who "they" is, but since it isn't my bike, I put it back in the creepy storage space. When I returned, I hauled the bike out again, and turned it upside down again and got to work. I heard Boo again, so this time I put her in the harness and just brought her outside. She is still quite skittish of the out of doors, and this experience certainly didn't help ease that fear.

I started to put the tube around the tire and once I was to the point of beginning to pump it up, a piece fell out of the nozzle. WHAT THE HECK? Wait... maybe that's... oh shit. The piece is supposed to be able to come out - maybe I didn't need a whole new tube and pump at all? Seriously? Ugh. The piece came out just like in the other tire, perhaps the old one was still good - I didn't really know. I continued to pump up the tire since it was already in the wheel and I wasn't about to switch it out AGAIN.

At this time, I heard the front door to the apartment building open, and out came Imre. He's the formerly crabby lady's husband from the first floor. He must have heard me from his window and came out to see what I was doing. Seriously. He, like Zsolt, greeted me with a "Jó munkat" - the literal translation is "good work" BUT - perhaps it is like the "good meal" they wish you before you eat? Maybe it's just a saying that people use when they see someone else has a project - I don't know. At any rate, Imre got right into it - and took the pump from me and started pumping away.

He had to take a couple breaks, after all- he is like a hundred years old... so I watched for a bit having tired myself out already trying to pump up the damn tire. He wanted to know what was wrong with the other tire tube, and since I was too embarrassed to say that there is a possibility that there was nothing wrong with it, I took out the "car pump" piece and tried to explain that I used the wrong piece. We kept alternating the pumping and eventually got it to a standard that was acceptable for Imre. I still think it needs more air, but that can be dealt with later. He looked at the other tube and decided that he wanted to start blowing that one up, so we tried it, and sure enough it pumped, but didn't keep it's air entirely. So, the mystery remains - is the original tube usable or not? Well, Imre took the tube, and is going to "work on it" to see what the problem is. I told him that wasn't necessary, but he said he liked helping me and working. Who knows what he'll come up with - perhaps he can patch the tube, who knows. At any rate, it was quite an exciting afternoon for the residents of 14 Új út - including the total stranger who wished both Imre and I a "jó munkat" as we were wrapping up. AHHH old Hungarian men.