So, raise your hand if you’ve hand-packed wheel bearings more recently than the Carter administration. My hands are still firmly on the keyboard, so assume that the past two afternoons have been an interesting combination of misery, hard work, puzzle solving and nostalgia. The last time I chased ball bearings around the driveway, I was wearing blue and red striped “flares,” I’m pretty sure (vertical stripes, in shades that could only have been found together in the ’70s), and a belt that involved d-rings and was just featured as “the latest thing” on “Queer Eye.” The Bianchi had about 1200 miles or more on it with little more than the occasional cleaning and oiling, and I knew the wheel hubs needed cleaning and regreasing. And of course I had none of the necessary oddities, like cone wrenches, so there have been a few trips across the river to the bike shop. I also had to take the headset apart, which turns out to have been wise, as I was actually missing a ball bearing, which might explain that odd little noise I was getting every time I turned the wheel. The Down Tube guys were very helpful, though, so I appreciated that, and they didn’t even grouse when I brought back some tools I really didn’t end up needing. Going out for a quick spin to the video store later, so we’ll see how well the whole thing went. If my wheel comes flying off, we’ll know why.

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