You may have read or heard recently that a 13-year-old boy climbed Mount Everest and a 16-year-old girl sailed solo around the world. But what you didn’t read in your newspaper, what failed to appear on the Internet, and what the media missed completely is the following feat that trumps any climb to the highest peak or worldwide sailing trip. I, your humble Footloose columnist, not only removed a worn-out tire and tube from the rim of a V2 Aero 150 roller ski in 30 seconds, but also put the tube and its new tire back on the hub in less than three minutes.

I can almost hear your gasps of amazement.

I have neither witnesses nor video to prove this feat, just the fact that I have no sweat on my brow, no scrapes on my hands and no echoing curse words to apologize for. Yet my V2 Aero 150 roller skis are ready to roll on four fresh tires. Let the believers among you catch your collective breath, the doubters click their tongues. I will now tell you the tale that led to this incredible event, believe it or not.

It began with the December 2009 issue of Silent Sports in which I intimated that changing the wheel on a V2 Aero roller ski is entertainment for the devil. I realized when I wrote that column that I might receive a few responses, and I did, mostly expressing empathy, offering suggestions and a shared wish for a magic wand.

Help from on high

Then on Jan. 11, an e-mail arrived from the Jenex Corporation, the manufacturer of the V2 Aero 150 roller ski. I hesitated before opening this e-mail, having learned that an official response to criticism is usually not pretty. However, what follows are the words Jenex founder Len Johnson wrote to me, excluding a brief yet impressive history of his company:

“Hi, Bruce. Loved your article in Silent Sports and it made me do something I should have done before. When I read your article I realized that we should have designed a tube-tire removal and assembly station for Aero wheels many years ago. Your article changed my priorities. It took me three days to design and build a prototype station where I could perform the operation in 10 minutes. We are now building the first production stations.”

He continued, “The reason I am writing you is to get your address so I can send the first station as a gift from V2. I know our female operators will be able to change a wheel in less than 10 minutes. Again thanks for the article. It forced me to come up with a solution. Len Johnson.”

My initial reaction was one of satisfaction for having my writer’s ego stroked by someone who was neither a friend nor relative. Then I considered who I was dealing with – Jenex founder Len Johnson! – and that something I’d written had driven him into the basement for three days, without mention of food or water. Cool.

Above all I realized that this man not only read my withering attack on his prized creation, he thanked me for it, and went to work to do something positive. In that regard, Len Johnson’s response is really cool.

Of course I wanted to get my hands on this Aero 150 wheel-changing station, especially since I was still rolling on lopsided wheels, one new and fully treaded, three severally bald. In an exchange of e-mails, Len Johnson and I agreed that since I may end up writing a review of the wheel-changing station, that I would return the station when I was done trying it and not accept it as a gift.

Less than success

After waiting for Len to complete some modifications to the station, I received a box from Jenex.

Roller skiing salvation arrived in a jointed stainless steel contraption that easily fit in the palm of my hand. So shiny and new, and a prototype too. I felt exactly like the only kid on the block in possession of the greatest toy ever made. Worse still, I responded like a kid, to the detriment of Len Johnson’s creation and hard work.

First of all, Len didn’t know I have a reputation of being able to fix slightly less than half the things I break, and I break a lot of things. Worse, when I’m jazzed up about something, instructions become a blur even if I try to read them. I simply want to see the magic happen.

As I result, when I tried to change the first of my three bald Aero 150 tires using the station, nothing went right. I popped an inner tube. The station moved about the clamp I had used to secure it to a table. I sweated, I groaned and I said things I never should say in the presence of a child. It took over an hour to get one tire changed, using the last spare inner tube I had. Getting the tube and tire back on was the hardest part. I had to turn the secured wheel beneath the pressure of a cam, and between the wiggling of the clamp and the force required, the process simply got stuck.

For a time, I gave up. I came close to clicking the send icon to Len announcing the station’s failure, but deleted that message. Instead, I took a break to let my frustration pass. More importantly, I turned to criticizing myself. I failed to bolt or screw the station to a secured workbench. I hadn’t used talcum powder on the tire rim and inner tube. I hadn’t applied even pressure with both palms. All of these were specifically mentioned in the instructions provided.

In short, I hadn’t given Len Johnson anything close to the consideration he had given my December 2009 column. In the meantime, Len e-mailed that his assistants, men and women, were changing tires in five minutes or less using the station.

I had two wheels left to prove as adept.

A month passed before I tried again. This time I used meaty screws to secure the station to a solid workbench, as instructed. The talc powder flew. I carefully read and followed the instructions. This time, using the supplied triangular flat lever and heavy duty tire iron, with the wheel secured to the station, the tire came off with a satisfying pop in less than a minute. Mounting a new tire, though, still presented a problem.

With the wheel correctly mounted for tire installation, I pulled the hinged plate up and forward. A cam, very much like a speed reducer cam, came to rest heavily on the tire rim close to the hub. Then, securing the hinge with a provided heavy-duty bolt, I began to turn as instructed.

There came a point, however, when the tire’s tough inner rim stretched as far as it seemingly could go, and the cam and the mounting process simply got stuck. The more I applied pressure the more I made this a more futile situation, with the cam beginning to pull back from the hub. Fifteen minutes passed with no success. Then, suddenly, with only modest effort, the wheel popped into place.

Try and try again

To consider any piece of equipment workable, however, there has to be consistency of function. Just because this sudden cooperation happened one time didn’t mean it would happen again or routinely. I removed the wheel from its hub (at least this part was becoming easy) and started again. Once more, I met resistance and gave up.

Several more weeks passed. Guilt mounted. I hadn’t contacted Len Johnson even though he sent me another e-mail with an update on the procedure. As a gentleman, he made no effort to ask what was taking me so long to respond one way or the other. He reminded me, though, that this process was easy for his assistants.

Then when a friend of mine told me he just bought a pair of Aero 150 roller skis and expected to get some miles in with me, I took a deep breath and went back to the station.

I found the wheel I had left undone and prepared it for mounting on the hub. Again, following the instructions, I still reached that point of no progress: inner tire rim stuck and straining against the hub, the cam pulling back a bit. Then, for whatever reason, for the first time I took the provided tire iron with my left hand, applied it over the hub rim and under the tire and lifted. The tire snapped into place. I removed the tire and tube from the hub again to see if there was consistency to this process. It worked just as easily a second time. And again. I turned to my last bald wheel. That’s when I used my stopwatch.

With the fourth and last wheel mounted on the station, it took less than 30 seconds for me to remove the tire and tube. More importantly, just by using the lever effect of the tire iron, the station allowed me to get the new tire on three minutes later, including the time it took to set the inner tube, talc things up and correctly position the tire on the station.

I removed this final new tire and tube from its hub. Tried again. Same result. Another tire easily mounted onto the hub of an Aero 150 roller ski in less than three minutes. In the face of this success, the lack of reporters on my front stoop still strikes me as unjust.

Improvements to come

Even after repeated and consistent success changing Aero 150 roller ski tires using Len Johnson’s station, some concerns remained. During the mounting process, you have to pay close attention so as not to pinch the tube. The process also puts noticeable strain on the inner tube’s nozzle, risking a tear where it connects to the tube. The tire iron also showed some bending during the process.

Out of respect to Len Johnson, as he had shown me, I decided to call Jenex to talk things over.

Robin Molis, Jenex production supervisor for the last 15 years, answered my call. Before I could explain my remaining issues, she repeated a helpful hint made by Len in an early follow-up e-mail that I overlooked. And without skipping a beat, she also said Len was manufacturing a tire iron that would not bend as mine did.

Robin then said some roller skiers are using an adhesive that protects the connection between the nozzle and the inner tube called Aqua-Seal, a scuba-diving product used to repair wet suits.

Jenex is not yet recommending its wheel-changing station for individual roller skiers. Even if tires are changed annually, that isn’t often enough to justify spending $60 on this tool. There is also a learning curve, even for people who pay adequate attention to the instructions from the start. The device does appear well-suited for shops and ski clubs, however.

I’m too old to be the youngest person to climb Mount Everest or sail around the world, but now I can change an Aero 150 roller ski wheel in less than five minutes. To all you V2 Aero 150 roller skiers out there, need I ask which of these three feats matters most to you?

As a closing note to Len Johnson, I never meant to drive you into your basement for three days. However, given the results, I won’t apologize either. Instead I’ll say, at long last, thank you.

       

Bruce Steinberg is a father, husband, lawyer and novelist in St. Charles, Illinois. He is the author of the mystery novel River Ghosts and can be reached at brucesteinberg6@aol.com.

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