The Battle of the Double Wall/ La Batalla de la Doble Pared

Hey, cycling. For the past few months, I've been selling and doing minor repairs on bikes, and today I got a tire that gave me a lot of trouble aligning. Here's the story: I looked at the wheel with a mixture of frustration because, honestly, it was pretty bent. It was a double-walled, sturdy tire, the kind that gives you confidence, but at that moment it seemed more like a personal challenge. The impact had been brutal, and although the rubber (tire) was intact, the rim... well, the rim had a suspicious curve that made it wobble more than it should.

My first thought was, “At least I've got the easy part under control.” And so it was. Removing the sprocket was a breeze, it almost slid off just by looking at it, and the brake disc screws gave way without resistance. Sometimes, mechanics give you a break before throwing you into the hell of fine tuning. The real headache began with the alignment. With the centering support in view, I began to tighten and loosen the spokes. The rim groaned a little, as if protesting the violence of the impact it had suffered. The double wall, while sturdy, made any adjustment a millimeter-by-millimeter struggle. I tried to straighten the curve caused by the blow, and as soon as I corrected one spot, I noticed how the rim moved sideways in another place.

Mi primer pensamiento fue: "Al menos, la parte fácil ya la tengo controlada." Y así fue. Quitar el piñón fue una seda, casi se deslizó con solo mirarlo, y los tornillos del disco de freno cedieron sin oponer resistencia. A veces, la mecánica te da un respiro antes de arrojarte al infierno del ajuste fino. El verdadero dolor de cabeza comenzó con el alineado. Con el soporte de centrado a la vista, empecé a tensar y aflojar los rayos. La llanta gemía un poco, como si protestara por la violencia del impacto que había sufrido. La doble pared, si bien resistente, hacía que cualquier ajuste fuera una lucha milimétrica. Intentaba enderezar la curva causada por el golpe y, apenas corregía un punto, notaba cómo el aro se movía lateralmente en otro lugar.

It was a tedious dance, a never-ending tug-of-war. Tension here, slack there. I used my eye and the centering tool as if they were a microscope, searching for that elusive perfection. The blow was so strong that not only had it slightly deformed the sideways, but there was also a small vertical jump. I had to play with the spokes in a cross pattern, applying more tension to those opposite the dent, releasing those directly in the affected area. There was a moment of despair, I admit. I thought about giving up and taking it to a professional workshop. But something compelled me to continue: beginner's pride.

Era una danza tediosa, un tira y afloja interminable. Tensión aquí, afloja allá. Usé mi ojo y la herramienta de centrado como si fueran un microscopio, buscando esa perfección esquiva. El golpe era tan fuerte que no solo había deformado ligeramente la lateralidad, sino que también había un pequeño salto vertical. Tuve que jugar con los radios en cruz, aplicando más tensión a los opuestos al golpe, liberando a los que estaban directamente en la zona afectada. Hubo un momento de desesperación, lo admito. Pensé en rendirme y llevarla a un taller profesional. Pero algo me obligó a seguir: el orgullo del novato.

And then, after an hour and a half of absolute concentration, I noticed it. The slight wobble had subsided. The most noticeable deformation had disappeared. The rim, which had previously seemed to want to come off the support, now turned with almost perfect grace. I spun it slowly a few times, checking each point. I tightened the locknuts and reassembled the disc and sprocket. I mounted the wheel on the bike, spun it, and the silence as it passed over the brake pads was the best reward.