Multiple Layers of Self-Reliance

Apologies, this is another cycling-related post. Cycling, of course, would be one way in which one could enhance one's self-reliance once energy supplies start to run low and driving, or public transportation, becomes either prohibitively expensive, unreliable, or both. Cycling is already a good strategy to get to work for me now, because I don't have to worry about traffic jams or train delays, of which there are plenty in the Amsterdam region. But this is a post about a small thing that happened to me today, not about the long- or medium term sustainability of Western ways of living. I had a flat, riding by myself this morning. That's not supposed to happen, because I make sure always to run the excellent Continental Gatorskin tires. In Holland, you can't get these (only the sew-up version, which incidentally I also use when I ride the nice wheels on the nice bike), but from the U.K. you can, and after confirming he really could not get them for me, my local bike shop gave me permission to order them there. But certain sharp, pointy things can penetrate even the toughest tires, and this morning I picked up, on a section covered with fallen leaves, a thin, sharp piece of metal in the very low reaches of the sidewall. So my first layer of self-reliance (use reliable stuff and keep it in working order) failed. My second did too: when I pulled out my spare tube, it turned out to have not one, but two holes in it. When I put it in my saddle bag months ago, I must have confused it with a good one. Fortunately, I also always bring patches and glue, and they bailed me out and got me home. Another way to get out of these situations (and I was running out of options this morning) should be with the help of fellow cyclists. However, as I stood there messing with my stuff--the bike on the ground, the wheel in my hands--I was passed at least twice by other road cyclists, each time without as much as a sound. In case they're reading along: the proper etiquette, gentlemen, is to ask if your unfortunate fellow cyclist needs any help: a pump, a tube, anything. You don't even have to stop to ask. But at least ask the question as you ride by. I've noticed that Dutch cyclists do this less than American ones. It may be for the same reason people over here are less friendly to strangers than Americans. (What those reasons might be we'll save for another post). Somebody eventually did stop to help, however. Just as I was trying to get the rear wheel back in the unhandy vertical drop-outs on my Klein, a Wegenwacht van pulled up (of the ANWB, the Dutch AAA), and the driver immediately started to get his hands as filthy as mine, trying to finish the job. Not only that, he gave me a rag to clean my hands, then took me to the back of his van where he keeps a soap dispenser, and when it was time to rise our hands, there also was a little faucet in the lower right-hand corner of the rear bumper dispensing not just water, but warm water. Needless to say perhaps, he also had a clean towel to top it all off. All this, fellow cyclists could not have provided. But it would have been nice if one of those guys riding by had shown a little interest. As Red Green says, after all: we're all in this together. And in case this concept is entirely new to you, gentlemen, also consider the words of Red's man's prayer.