Things (briefly) fall apart (sometimes).

My camera's been in the shop, so long time no post, sorry ya?

I shall take this lull to catch you up with iPhone photos in reverse chron order, beginning with My First Ever Flat Tire Experienced in Indonesia.

Please meet my colonial era gentleman friend.  His name is Sir Beecham, and he is my constant companion in Indonesia:

He is absolutely vintage (circa 1911) and rides like a Cadillac.  He takes me to and from school daily, and gets me wherever I need to go around Ponorogo and environs, including my friend PCV DeeDee's village roughly an hour south of my town.

The other day, what I had been mildly dreading would happen happened: I got a flat in the evening on my way back from my usual late afternoon ride.  So I walked us back home in the dark, in a quandary about how I'd get to school the next day.

Luckily, there are these little mechanic shops everywhere, often just people working out of the front of their homes, some of which also service bikes.  Luckier still, there is one down the street from my village.  So after consoling Sir Beecham that flats happen to every man bike every now and again, and that it has nothing to do with his age, I walked us there way too early in the morning before I had to get to school.  What I witnessed was an hour of surprisingly brisk business for Pak Fixes Everything With Wheels.

Though it was hella early, I was the already the second customer.  The first was a scooter that needed some mild engine repair.  When that was taken care of, Pak FixIt turned his attention to me and, like any good bike mechanic worth his salt, hoisted Sir Beecham up to examine what's the matter.  But Pak FixIt doesn't have a bike stand with clamps.  He has this rig: A rafter and a piece of rope.

First of course, find the hole and sand down the area around it to prep it for repair:

And then I expected he'd do what I could easily do at home had I a patch kit, that is, slap on the patch with some glue and call it a day.  But no.  Instead, I watched in wonder as Pak FixIt nonchalantly schlepped this thing over...

... clamped in the tube...

... and proceeded to set it on fire:

While the aroma of slow-burning rubber* was killing us softly, the third customer of the morning rolled up in front of the shop.

*(By the way, folks here burn all garbage this way, including plastic bags.  There are controlled fires everywhere at all times, in a gully, by the side of the road, in the front yard, in a field, in the backyard...  As I inhale this fantastic melange of burning trash and exhaust from gazillion scooters, diesel trucks, old vans and cars on a daily basis, I really try not to think too much about my long-term bronchial health.)

This young man came through with his feedbag because he wanted to buy some rocks.  So Pak FixIt set up the scale next to him and had the young man pick out several kilos of big rocks that were stored in big  containers on the porch, my little tube happily burning away all the while.

I was starting to get a little worried about my little tire when the fourth customer came by, a becak driver who needed air.

I won't lie, I was getting slightly worried about my tube and start of school, but before I could gently ask Pak FixIt how much longer it would take, he was finished, a black rubber patch completely fused (soldered?) to my tire tube.  Nary a leak has been fixed as thoroughly as this one, just in time for customer number five...

... and the start of class.  I made it to school on time, Sir Beecham back to his secure, proud and comfortable self.