Am I a sucker for stopping to help riders with flats?
Question: Last Saturday, I stopped for a guy standing next to his bike with a flat. Nice bike, by the way. Nicer than mine. Turns out he had no tube, no levers, no pump, nothing. So I gave him my tube that cost me $15, helped him mount it, and aired it up with my pump while he watched. He said “thanks, man,” clipped in, and rode off. No offer to pay for the tube, no “can I Venmo you,” nothing. And I rode the last 30 miles with an empty saddle bag, hoping for no flats of my own. My wife says I got played. I say it’s what you do. So which is it? Do you always stop? And is there any etiquette that says the guy who took your tube at least offers to make it right? —Paul D.
RBR’S STAN PURDUM REPLIES: The guy could be a jerk, but it’s also possible he is socially awkward or so stressed by his tire problem and so embarrassed at being unprepared that doing more than saying thanks does not occur to him. And if he’s a new enough rider to not think to carry a tube and the necessary tools, it’s also possible that he has no idea how much a tube costs these days.
I can remember when tubes were $3.75 and our local bike shop ran coupons in the area bike club newsletter that enabled us to buy one and get one free. Back then, it didn’t seem like that much of a sacrifice to give an occasional tube away. But today’s economy has made that good deed more costly.
You are not a sucker for helping another rider — that’s part of the cycling culture — and most of us who are long-time cyclists have ourselves occasionally been on the receiving end of help from a fellow rider when we had a mechanical for which we are unprepared. Nonetheless, if you decide to hand over a tube or other bike part, it is neither unkind nor rude to first say something like “This tube cost me $15, and it’s my last spare, so I’d appreciate it if you can reimburse me.” And if he says he’s not carrying any money, it’s not impolite to suggest Venmo or PayPal. If he agrees to that and then doesn’t follow through — and assuming he’s not impoverished — then yes, he is a jerk.
If you haven’t asked for reimbursement, basic etiquette from the recipient is to offer payment or at least to buy you a coffee. But the very essence of good deeds is that they are tendered without expecting recompence, so if nothing more than “thanks, man” is forthcoming, it’s no discredit to you.
If you prefer not to bring up the cost of the tube and not to accept repayment, you could, should the helped rider offer to pay, say something like “Don’t worry about it; just make sure you help the next rider you see in trouble.”
Regarding helping riders where what’s required is not handing over a part but advice or hands-on assistance, it’s not usual to expect more than a thanks.
Some years ago, I was pedaling on a rural road and saw a young man dressed in street clothes tinkering with a bike turned upside down on the side of the road. I stopped to see if he needed help. He did. He explained that he really didn’t know much about bikes but had decided to give it a try. He’d pumped up the tires on an old 10-speed he had in the garage and set out. He had gotten as far as we were before “something got screwed up,” and he couldn’t figure it out. I took one look and realized his rear derailleur had rotated 180 degrees out of position. I had enough tools with me to help him get it back in place and tightened down enough that he could probably get home on it. And he thanked me profusely.
But here’s the thing: The ride he’d had that far had gotten him hooked. He talked enthusiastically about it and how much he enjoyed it until the mechanical problem occurred. He agreed when I recommended he take the bike to a bike shop and have them tune it up. He asked questions about what I was riding, and I was glad to tell him, but I also advised him not to rush into an immediate purchase. Ask questions at the shop and of other riders and learn a bit about what he liked and didn’t like on the bike he had.
I felt good about both the help I’d rendered and the advice I’d given. I was confident that if he talked with other riders, a lot more good advice and encouragement would be willingly given.
That’s the nature of the cycling community.
Stan Purdum has ridden several long-distance bike trips, including an across-America ride recounted in his book Roll Around Heaven All Day, and a trek on U.S. 62, from Niagara Falls, New York, to El Paso, Texas, the subject of his book Playing in Traffic. Stan, a freelance writer and editor, lives in Ohio. See more at www.StanPurdum.com.