Chipps gets existential in his tyre swapping.
Perhaps those new tyres you had on backorder have finally come in, or you’re simply putting in that pre-summer maintenance where you swap worn brake pads and bottom bracket bearings for new ones. And now, your attention turns to your wheels…
When was the last time you had new tyres on? Surely it can’t have been that long? There are still those little rubbery hairs on the side knobs? Oh yeah, that’s hardly a surprise, given that you’ve never cranked your bike over at that kind of crazy angle to wear them off. The rest of the knobbles, now you’re looking closer, are looking a little ropey… Perhaps it really is time to get that rubber swapped?
But… but… they’re doing fine as they are and they’re holding air just fine. You’re sure that there’s Stan’s in there – you remember the giant faff the last time you swapped tyres. Did you top them up after that? Maybe yes, maybe no. But the thing is, they’re working just fine. No flats for ages, so that sweet (well, slightly acrid, to be honest) milky fluid must be doing its job still. It’s got your back. Hasn’t let you down. It’s there for you.
However, you know that once you break that Tutankhamun seal between tyre and rim, even if just to peek, you’re going to have to be fully committed to a new tyre future. Or at the very least a full afternoon of sore thumbs and frenzied pumping. The trouble is, you know that your tyres are currently keeping air, keeping you upright and puncture-free. Whatever is going on inside is working and you don’t want to disturb that happy balance.
Perhaps the Stan’s Monsters are working hard, rushing around the tyre, constantly searching for air leaks? When they find one, they presumably do their own version of the boy with his finger in the dike, plugging the leak until help, in the form of the other Stan’s Monsters, arrives.
It can’t be put off any longer, though, you pull the valve core and start thumbing the tyre bead into the centre of the rim. As you wrestle the bead off the rim wall, there’s that unmistakable breaking of what you know to be The Perfect Seal. The fluid has filled any gaps and then hardened to keep it that way. Only a direct hole in the carcass will lose any of your precious air. But tyres need changing and this is no time for sentimentality as you haul one bead and then the other off the rim.
As you suspected, the tyre is completely devoid of liquid sealant. Where did it go? Most of it is probably going to be found coating the inside of the tyre, though some of it went into making that perfect seal. And then you spot the monsters. The Stan’s Monsters. Little starbursts of solid latex, forever frozen in time. They were busy going about their business, keeping the air where it belonged until you pulled that first bead off. Perhaps they solidified on contact with the sunlight, or the outside world, leaving only their mummified remains… How else can you explain how your tyre has stayed inflated for months, despite an obvious lack of liquid sealant? The Stan’s Monster is real!
Heartlessly, you have no time for such nonsense. You’ve got a new tyre to fit, one bead at a time, calling on every trick in the book to get the beads up and over the sidewall without destroying either the rim or your thumbprints. And then comes the inflation – which for those without a compressor, ALWAYS involves sweat and swearing until the tyre, sometimes hours later, gets the message and deigns to inflate.
And what of the Stan’s Monsters? How will your tyre stay up without their help? Usually, it doesn’t. A full tyre today is flat tomorrow. This is because the new monster crew is still being trained and learning their skills. Finally, though, and unseen by you or anyone, they get to work, diligently keeping your tyre inflated and plugging all of those thorn holes. And until someone comes up with a transparent tyre, their work will forever be unknown and uncredited. They only work in complete darkness when the tyre is sealed up. Pop the tyre and they’re gone.
Here’s to you, brave Monsters!