Hate Installing Inserts? Then do it three times.

Inertia works in both directions. Objects in motion want to keep rolling and those at rest are similarly content with the status quo. This seems doubly true for Homo sapiens and particularly this example. It had been a couple of weeks since I'd done any serious bike work and the routine tasks that were piling up each began to feel monumental. Taken together, they felt crippling. One of the jobs I was avoiding was swapping out a bald rear tire for a freshy and installing a new Tannus Fusion insert. These new noodles come as two parts, an inner ribbed portion that can be used on its own as minimalist protection or in conjunction with a larger outer portion, similar to the original Tannus tubeless insert, only thicker and with ribs that mate with the inner portion. I wanted to use both together at first, to see if this was the first MTB solution from the company that was capable of being run flat.*

*"Run Flat" means different things to different people. For me it means you are able to ride fast enough to enjoy yourself so that a flat that isn't repaired on the trail doesn't completely spoil your ride.

The Specialized Butcher I was removing had been on there for a while; so long that strangers were commenting on the lack of tread. The "Gravity" casing sidewalls were still in excellent shape however and getting the bead to drop so I could remove the tire proved challenging. A task that normally takes a couple of minutes stretched beyond five. Once the tire was off I noticed the rim strip looked a little dodgy. It was peeled up where it ended and sealant had seeped between the overlapped layers. I did my best to press the sealant out, hoping it would magically re-adhere once the goop was extracted. This did not happen but at least it looked better. I knew I should replace it but I didn't have any decent rim tape; only more of the crappy red cellophane-looking stuff that was currently peeling off. And frankly, I didn't feel like it.

Instead I began to figure out how to install this new high-volume insert. I first tried stretching it around the rim and then wrapping the tire around it. Massaging the tire over the Tannus proved impossible so I went to the technique reserved for the most challenging inserts; I mounted the tire without the insert, inflated it until it was seated, and then let the air out and removed one side of the bead. The next step was to stuff the insert into the half-mounted tire. This involved a little wrestling and, using a technique I'd only use on tough carbon rims,* and never recommend, I eased it into position using my feet.

*Crankbrothers Synthesis in this case

The next step, setting the open bead with the insert in place, proved to be as difficult as any I've done before. The new tire with a heavy duty casing and a brand new high-volume insert was a punisher. I massaged and pulled and pushed for the better part of an hour but didn't even have the remaining side 50% mounted so I took a break. I was a little worried that I was going to be bested by a pool noodle for the first time.

Once I came back, I spent some time dropping the bead and then pushed the tire toward the gaping maw that remained unseated. Eventually, I began to make some progress and after another half an hour or so (probably longer actually) the bead popped into place. I cranked my compressor and waited for four terrifying pops, let all the air out, syringed in some sealant and left it overnight. And the next morning? Of course it was flat. The divine intervention I was counting on hadn't arrived.

The leak was slow and I rationalized that sealant would solve this problem after a first good ride. I valiantly pumped up the tire and headed to Cypress. Once I'd arrived, the tire was completely flat but I stubbornly jackhammered more air in and we began to climb. Every ten minutes or so I'd have to stop and repeat that task but over time I stretched it longer and longer so I was riding on the airless, insert-equipped tire for long stretches. Air was escaping more quickly each time, likely because the loose insert was pushing the loose rim strip around. Eventually I gave up and began riding flat exclusively.

I began to notice something novel about this tire/insert combo. Once the air was gone, the Tannus Fusion and the fresh Specialized Butcher began to squelch and moan like a worn out clothes dryer. It was annoying and loud, particularly at lower speeds. We approached a large group gearing up to drop into Fifth Horseman, and they looked up to see what the fuss was about. One of them said, "I think you've got a flat." I said I was aware and that I had inserts that I could run flat. Another one of them, seemingly oblivious to the first rider's comment, said, "I think you've got a flat." I tried to explain again what was going on and Pedro Chambré (my patient companion) and I began to move towards the trailhead.

Just as we were pulling out I heard a different voice say from the group say, "hey, I think your tire is flat." Thinking he was in on the joke I said something like "really?" and chuckled a little. As it turns out he wasn't joking and he said again, "no, you really have a flat." Feeling like a jerk for being sarcastic to someone sincere (but somewhat oblivious) I began to think there was a camera on me but I again told my story, with the help of his friends, and we finally dropped in ahead of their group.

When I test inserts, the important task of riding them flat seems to get pushed to the background and only intentionally performed once I'm ready to write them up. Obviously it makes sense to get some real world, un-inflated trail experience early on, but without some sort of catastrophic failure, this rarely seems to happen. So this was a positive element of this calamity and I learned some important things about these new noodles. As always it was good to get out on the trail but after riding two long descents on a squelching flat, I was somewhat unsatisfied and quite frustrated.

Fighting the urge to procrastinate, I got down to replacing the rim strip as soon as I arrived home. I got everything apart, cleaned the rim bed well and then started to figure out a better solution to expensive and crappy rim tape without going to a bike shop. I had a roll of clear hockey shin pad tape (used to hold pads into place) that Trevor Hansen had left me and I decided to give it a try.* It wasn't as wide as I would have liked but it wasn't far off and seemed robust and flexible. I carefully stretched it into place, overlapping it for four spoke holes on either side of the valve hole.

*Stan's rim tape is 23 CAD locally for 10 metres x 30mm. Renfrew "Pro" shin pad tape is 13 CAD for 6 rolls of 24 metres x 25 mm or 144 metres total. Which makes Stan's $2.30 a metre and Shin pad tape 9 cents a metre. This makes Stan's 25 times more expensive by length. Or, since two loops might be necessary 12.5x pricier. I'm not singling out Stan's here since other rim tapes are similarly pricy. More testing is required but I'm hopeful about shin pad tape.

Riding it flat had stretched the tire out nicely and the install went smoothly this time (I may be onto something there). I aired up the tire and again left it overnight, more confident this time. I was all set to ride with a couple of buddies who were visiting from out of town and the next day my tire was flat once again. Once re-inflated, careful listening revealed one valve hole emitting persistent hiss. I gave that nipple a little tension, which slowed the hiss some, and left with the same misplaced optimism as the day before.

Instead, I again I stopped I began to stop and pump at manageable intervals but as time passed that interval shrank until finally it became pointless. Thankfully I could again descend well enough to keep up and the slower trails on Fromme made riding airless more manageable. I had again spoiled my ride with stubbornness and I was too pigheaded to go and buy some "quality" rim tape for some outrageous price per foot.

We were out with some friends for dinner that night and when we got home, a little after midnight and a little boozy, I decided to try the same thing again while hoping for a different result. Only this time I doubled down on my stubbornness. I removed the shin pad tape and replaced it with... more shin pad tape. I wrapped it even more carefully this time but continued for a second complete loop. The install was a snap after two airless rides on the tire and in about twenty minutes the wheel was aired up and laying on the shop floor filled with sealant squeezed in. Before putting it to bed, I carefully checked every valve hole, making sure no air was escaping. I hit the pillow hopeful but resigned after my two colossal failures.

Miraculously everything worked perfectly this time and I felt really good on the trail after having ridden two complete rides on a rear flat. I learned some things, particularly about installing tricky inserts, riding Tannus Fusion airless, and the viability of shin pad tape as a cheap solution to rim tape, at least when doubled up. How anyone can justify a price of over two bucks a metre is beyond me.

Have I learned to keep inertia on your side rather than procrastinating and letting things pile up? Learning and implementing don't always align and I'm quite sure it's a lesson I'll be forced to re-learn as long as I continue to tinker and fix things myself. Maybe I'll get a little better over time?

PS - I think you've got a flat.