Note to self: Do NOT go mountain biking without a spare inner tube ... or at least a tire patch kit that actually works.
Too bad I didn't get my own memo until I was X miles along Desert Classic Trail at South Mountain Park this past weekend. In fact, nobody in my party was equipped with a spare. And much to my surprise, none of the other hikers/bikers whose paths we crossed along the way were giving away inner tubes. So walk with my bike, I did. After short-cutting through a wash, we ended up pseudo-trespassing through an affluent gated community and emerging deep in the 'Tuk along Ray Road. (And let it be known to all the rich folks who were mean-muggin' us through the ginormous windows of their gihugeous custom homes as we strolled the streets of their enclave trying to find our way out ... we didn't want to be in there any more than you wanted us in there, so relax. Oh ... and thanks for your offers of help. NOT. Besides, I don't think my bike would fit in the back of your Bentley had your conscience got the better of you anyway.)
After finding our way back to the real world, I used the handy dandy Yelp app on my phone to find that we were only about a mile away from a bike shop ... South Mountain Cycles. Sweetness! I can buy a new tube, maybe grab some lunch nearby, and then ride home along the arterials, getting there just in time to shower and then head to Brad E's Parka Pool Party in CenPho. Right on!
And then I get to SMC only to realize that I am sans wallet. That's right. No cash, no debit cards, no wampum for which to trade for the giant rubber donut I need in order to salvage my Saturday. But the awesome gal who greeted me said not to worry. She empathized with my sorry plight and offered to, on behalf of all of the fine folks at South Mountain Cycles, "lend" me a tube so I could get home. I love this place! I took the opportunity to look around, as this was my first visit, and quickly discovered that this was a serious bike shop. The place was immaculately clean, the other reps I overheard helping customers were very friendly and seemed quite knowledgeable, and the place was jammed with a robust inventory of road bikes, mountain bikes, gear and accessories. It's a great shop; it really is.
Back to Lindsey (I believe that was her name), my savior. She said that they were open until 6pm, and that if I couldn't get back that day to settle my debt, to try to make it in the next day by 3pm, as they were closing early in observance of the Super Bowl. My kind of place. All she asked was that I write down my name and number on a Post-it, so she had some recourse if I flaked out.
It may not seem like much, but it was a tremendous gesture of customer service; the kind that will make me return to SMC when, in the not-too-distant future, I'm in the market for my next bike.
I made it back before closing that day to clear my tab. I also purchased a few additional spares and had another look around the shop. Yep. It's solid. Well worth the trek to Ahwatukee if you're a true enthusiast.
And truth be told, I actually wrote down Brad E's name and contact info on that Post-it note. Not so I could stick him with my $10 inner tube bill, rather, I was hoping that my incredible wit and charm would render it impossible for Lindsey not to pick up the phone and call. (I'm just looking out for a brother).
But since Lindsey was conspicuously absent from Brad's pool party that night, and since I've yet to hear that Brad has received a mysterious call from a bike shop hottie, I am left to assume that my game is not what I thought it was. Brad, I am sorry. Just know that I had good intentions and that there are people out there who care, buddy.
And there is a killer bike shop in the 'Tuk that must be checked out if you're in the market. read more