Tensionometry ...

As an aside to those recent posts about bicycles, I have been advised to purchase a tensionometer.
I've never seen one so I searched for images on Google ...

The caption read, "Yep, this standing rigging is properly adjusted."

Yes ...

I need one of these!

Anyone seen one on EBay?

(Jane won't let me have one!)

The Tale of a Bicycle Wheel #2

After an interval of a few days we returned to the shop.
Jane had calmed down.
[B] had regained his emotional continence.
He found Jane's wheel. By now it was looking like a bird's nest.

We were then regaled by a sincerely apologetic discourse about the quality recently manufactured spokes. Apparently the cycle-industry, particularly manufacturers of factory-assembled wheels, have been sabotaged by a world-wide supply of substandard spokes.

“I can keep doing this,” said [B], “but all these spokes are cr*p!”
He pointed out the internal degradation in the fractured ends of the spokes.
He invited us to observe rust on the surface of supposedly stainless steel spokes.

“You’ll be better off buying a new wheel.”
The bike, being beyond any warranty, we agreed to do so.
It cost £80.00.

[B] said, “Would you like to take the old wheel away?”

“No, thank you,” we said in unison, harmonised by two more PINGS!

This story will continue after a few more cycle-miles ...

The Tale of a Bicycle Wheel #1

This commentary will take some time.
I anticipate at least three chapters.
Here’s the first …

This year Jane began riding her two-year-old bicycle regularly.
We have had joyous outings together throughout the summer.
Her bike looks like this:

One day while we were cycling around Chidham, a couple of miles from home, I heard a cry from behind me: “STOP! Something's gone 'PING!'”
As ever, an obedient husband did as he was told.
Jane had dismounted and was pushing her bike with some difficulty towards me.

It was clear that the front wheel had become wobbly and was binding on the brakes.
Further inspection revealed a broken spoke.

Now, spoke replacement is not my forte, so, after arriving home, I removed the offending wheel. We took it to our local bike shop, where we had previously purchased the road machine.

The proprietor, (let’s call him [B],) said, “OK, come back in half-an-hour. I’ll have it ready.”

We returned as requested, and waited a few moments while [B] refitted the tyre to Jane’s wheel.

“PING!” we heard before he’d pumped up the tyre.

“Oh dear!” said [B], “That’s another spoke gone!”

[B] repeated the replacement process while I waited and watched with great interest.
(I have always regarded making a wheel round to be a secret and dark art!)

“There you are!” said [B], smiling triumphantly.

Jane picked up the wheel and said, “Thank you.”

“PING!” we heard, as another spoke disintegrated.
(Now, I know that those wheelwrights with skill talk about tuning bicycle wheels, but I don't break that many strings when tuning my psaltery!)

Jane, very gently, put the wheel down and glared at [B].

“PING!” we heard yet again!

I smiled at [B] in commiseration.

[B] held his hands to his abjectly bowed head.

He wrung his oil-stained hands, rent his clothes and tore his hair ...

Jane and I walked home!

More to follow ...