Latest thrift shop find. Popping a bike.
Go into Goodwill.
I hate it when my little voice insists.
Walking across the parking lot, I was on a mission to Dollar Tree. Five pairs of reading glasses for five dollars.
Then I got the insistent nudge to turn into Goodwill. I’ve been on the lookout for a small dining room set for a friend. So I thought my voice was telling me the perfect table was there waiting.
Got into Goodwill. Nope.
No small table and chairs. A quick glance at the skirts and I was heading to the door when I saw the bikes.
Someone stole my nine year old’s bike. I hadn’t wanted to replace it because we don’t have a garage and a new bike would just sit outside and rust.
Standing in a rack was a 20-inch boy’s bike with $8.99 on the seat.
Nine dollars for a bike. Macklemore was prepared to drop $20 on clothes.
Sold. The back tire seemed low but for nine dollars, how could I go wrong?
When I got home, a cut tire and inner tube was how things could go wrong.
But this was going to work. It was destined. The bike had called to me in the parking lot.
I asked my son, “maybe I should ask Rob Jones to come and help?” My son sort of freaked that I would ask for help but I’ve learned which neighbors are handy and which neighbors are like me. Not so much.
Rob came and laughed that my tool box was a zip-lock plastic gallon bag. I didn’t let that deter me. I was just happy I knew where my plastic zip-lock toolbox was.
And in no time flat, he got that tire off my bike.
He agreed that there was lots of wear left this in this spectacular $9 bike. But it was obvious that there would be no more wearing on it till I got a new tire and inner tube.
So that is what I did today.
This is how they sell tires now. Rolled up like a like rubber armadillo.
This wrapped around a rim? I had my doubts.
The dreaded inner tube. I have wrestled with these bad boys and my road bike.
As I started to put the armadillo and the inner tube together, my faith wavered.
Where is that Rob fellow now? Work?
Why is he at work when I need him to fix my tire?
But guess what?
I figured the darn thing out.
And got the wheel back on the frame.
Nine dollars for bike. Seventeen for tire and nine dollars for tube.
Thirty five dollars and my son has a bike this summer. A bike that I don’t have to cringe is outside every time a thunderstorm hits.
I am WOMAN. Hear me roar.
I might trade my plastic bag for a tool box.
A small decorative one.
Meow.
How about you? Any trash to treasures?
I hear your roar! Way to go at persevering to get that thing done! I think you should get a small decorative pink tool box…way better than a plastic bag! lol!
KC
Doesn’t that feel good when you can fix something all by yourself. Great job! That’s a nice looking bike too.
Good job on listening to your inner voice – and for getting that innertube on.
I found a pink bag full of pink-handled tools at a yard sale once. It is now under the seat in my van awaiting an emergency. I felt destined to buy it.
I did feel great Kenya. Especially when after hearing about the tire, my husband thought I’d never get it fixed. My son got on it yesterday and loves it. Total score and total satisfaction for proving him wrong.
Jerrelea that bag sounds too good to be true. I might have to search on eBay for one. Maybe destiny will be on my side again?
I did feel very empowered. I DO need a tool box.
You are awesome Jamie! I love that the Goodwill was calling you name, I often sense certain stores are calling. Weird but true and I think you were right. Very impressed with the tire. oxox
You forgot to mention the wild dog running madly through the neighborhood looking for someone to knock down.
Rob’s family laughed when we got married because I “came with” my own tools. (no men in my family growing up – I had to know how to fix things on my own!)
-Trish
I love thrifting especially for clothes. Macklemore would approve of my wardrobe.
It’s so awesome that you tackled that bike project. You are woman, I hear you roar!
[…] Pooh. Okay I said a few words a little more colorful than pooh. I just did changing the tire with my son’s bike. […]