The "Impossible Task" of Bike Repair

A tale of wheels, brake pads, and coney dogs

For the past few months, the brakes on my bike have gotten worse and worse. At first the brake levers were just a bit mushy, but as time went on, I began to realize that the back brake pretty much didn't work at all. I would've borrowed Zach's bike, but the back tire was flat, and I couldn't remember offhand how to change it.

"One of these days," I kept telling myself, "I'll replace my brake pads. One of these days, I'll replace Zach's flat tire."

The Internet introduced me to the concept of the "Impossible Task"— something that you just can't bring yourself to do, no matter how hard you try. Sometimes it's something small, like answering email. Other times, it's slightly bigger, such as repairing bikes. They had become my Impossible Task.

So as weeks turned into months, I biked to church, to volunteer events, to my parents' house, and to social events, taking the hills slowly and feathering the front brake to find the balance between slowing down and launching myself over the handlebars.

I should probably just pay someone to fix these for me, I thought.

Last Sunday, after biking home from church and realizing that the back brake didn't even have any friction on the wheel, something in me snapped. "I'm going out to fix my bike!" I announced to Zach, and marched out the door.

I opened the garage door, letting in a swoosh of fresh autumn air. I found the spare brake pads we'd bought last year, and inspected my bike, realizing that I needed to watch a YouTube tutorial again because I couldn't even remember where to start. 

Zach popped his head in the door. "Do you want me to take a look at it?"

I did. He took one glance and said, "Your brake pads are fine— the brake line just needs to be tightened. I'll get the hex wrench."

I didn't even know that was something that could be wrong with a bike. "Well then, I'll fix your tire!" I said.

For the next ten minutes, Zach and I worked on each other's bikes— he adjusted my brakes and I changed his tire, realizing that I did in fact remember how to do this. We hopped on our bikes and rode in circles on the street, whooping with happiness. "Let's take a ride!" I said.

Within half an hour we were zooming down the greenway, headed to district called New Town. As we rode down a super-steep hill, I was grateful for brakes that actually did what they were supposed to do. 

We pedaled along the canal in New Town, and then stopped for dinner at a food stand that served coneys (chili dogs), which we ate while listening to a band sound-check for a community concert. We rode home in the twilight, flying down the hills with no (well, less) fear of somersaulting over the handlebars.

Three days later, every time I remember that the bikes are fixed throughout the day, I rejoice. Impossible Tasks don't feel like a heavy burden until you're free of them, and you realize how much space they'd been taking up in your mind.

May you find the time and energy to tackle your Impossible Task soon!

~~~