Well, not really, but felt like it this evening as I had to bring my Iron Pig (1973 Cinelli, now my rain bike) back into commission because it's raining... again.
Had to work on it because the freewheel was near failure (very loose and made constant loud cracking noises all the time). So heck, you own a bike shop, replace the darned thing. Yeah, right. 120mm axle spacing means you can use only a 5-speed or narrow-6, and narrow-6 hasn't been made for years, and I was out of 5s. Which meant... gasp... I had to rebuild a freewheel. Haven't done that in... well... three decades. But otherwise I couldn't ride.
So, with the shop wondering what the heck I was doing (particularly since I'd fire anybody for offering to rebuild a freewheel for a customer, given the amount of time it takes and the likelihood of a ratchet spring failure), I grab a shoebox and get to work. Why a shoebox? 'Cuz you need something to capture all the small parts in!
What's the worst part of rebuilding a freewheel? If you're 49, it's counting the ball bearings in each race. Yuck. But an hour and a half later I've got a rebuilt Cyclo freewheel that runs great, repacked rear hub and, for a bonus, a new Phil BB.
But it really seemed like the soundtrack from Breaking Away ought to have been playing in the background. I even told one of my guys that, in real life, I *am* Dave Stoller. He said no, since I don't (and never did, even when I raced) shave my legs.
