One of the many benefits of buying from a good bike shop is that your new bike will be ready to roll when you take delivery. This is why experienced riders usually advise new cyclists to shop at their local bike shop (or LBS, if you’re in a hurry). But not every local bike shop is good, and bike shops of any description are rare finds outside cities. Moreover, these small shops are low-volume businesses. They don’t have the buying power of the Big Box chains. Which is why Walmart can sell a serviceable derailleur-equipped bike for less than USD200 and your local bike shop can’t.

There is, of course, a catch. Whereas a bike bought from a good bike shop will be properly assembled, the bike you buy from Walmart may not be. If the “associate” who takes the bike out of the box and sets it up is herself a cyclist, the odds are in your favor. But if she’d rather be laying out a floor display of this season’s latest swimwear, your new bike will probably suffer.

As luck would have it, the associate who oversees the cycling department at my local Walmart seems to know his stuff. I’ve watched him prep bikes for customers, and I’ve seen him taking stock of the display models, pumping up tires and checking brakes. He comes across as both knowledgeable and conscientious. You may not be so fortunate, however.

A similar problem crops up with bikes bought from large clicks-and-mortar retailers. If your new bike arrives on your doorstep in a box, you’ll have to do the final assembly yourself, and you’ll also want to make sure that the prep work was done properly. Come to think of it, though, it’s really not a bad idea to give every new bike a good going over—even one bought from a trustworthy local bike shop. The best mechanics have bad days, after all, and anyway, it’s important to get to know your new machine. Mechanical problems don’t always strike when you’re outside a bike shop, at least not in my experience. And bicycles are one of the few forms of transport that can be maintained and repaired by the owner. So why not be prepared to do it yourself, at least when you can spare the time? Self-reliance is a virtue, right?

So let’s get to work. Be warned: Despite its apparent simplicity, a bike is a fairly complex machine. But it’s also a collection of systems. And the best way to get to know a new bike is to tackle one system at a time. Here’s a list:

• • Wheels
• • Tires
• • Brakes
• • Chain
• • Cranks
• • Pedals
• • Shifters and derailleurs
• • Saddle and seatpost
• • Handlebars, stem, and headset
• • Accessories
• • Frame

Now let’s take a closer look. (If you need help with the naming of parts, there’s an annotated diagram below.)

Wheels  Make sure that the wheels spin freely—a friend can be a big help here—without rubbing and with no noticeable wobbling or hopping. Also make certain that the quick releases or nuts that hold the wheels in place are secure. (Getting the quick-release clamping force just right is a bit tricky. Too loose is just too loose, but you don’t want to have to pound them closed with a hammer, either. One rule of thumb I’ve found useful: Adjust the clamping force until closing the quick release leaves a noticeable imprint on your palm. I guess that should be “rule of palm,” eh?)

Tires  Inspect the tread and sidewalls for cracks—even new tires sometimes have ‘em—and make sure the bead is evenly seated all around. Check the air pressure with a gauge, pumping the tires up to bring them within the recommended range (stamped on the tire sidewall) if necessary. (You do have a pump, don’t you? In fact, you should have two: a floor pump for home and a frame pump or mini-pump for the road.)

Brakes  You’ve already checked to see that your wheel rims don’t rub on the brake pads when the wheels are spinning free. But when you squeeze the brake levers, the brake pads should clamp the rims squarely and evenly, rapidly bringing the free-spinning wheels to a smooth stop. The pads must contact only the rims. If they rub the tire sidewalls when you brake, adjust them now, before you have a blowout. Further evaluation of the brakes will have to wait for the final road test. Do they stop you quickly and smoothly? Good. Do the levers bottom out against the bars when you squeeze them? BAD. Shorten the cable.

By the way, the front brake does most of the work. It’s your best friend in an emergency stop. But be careful. Linear brakes (“V-brakes”) can grab the front wheel so forcefully that they send an unprepared rider right over the bars. And that’s no fun.

You many have noticed that I’ve said nothing about disc brakes. That’s because I’ve never had a bike that was fitted with them. And I doubt I ever will. Why? Well, disc brakes are rather complex, fussy things. Since I’d rather ride my bike than tinker endlessly with the brakes, I steer clear of this particular “improvement.”

Chain  The chain should be clean and properly lubricated, but it shouldn’t be dripping with oil. If it is, wipe off the surplus.

Cranks  Make sure the cranks turn freely and the crank bolts are tight. Check the crank bolts on a new bike several times in the first couple of hundred miles.

Pedals  These must be tight. (Remember that almost all left-hand pedals have a left-hand thread: they tighten to the left. This ditty helps: Toward forward tightens. Rear rotation removes. It applies to both left- and right-hand pedals.)

Shifters and Derailleurs  With the rear wheel lifted off the ground (I hope your friend is still hanging around), rotate the pedals and ring the changes with both front and rear shifters. Adjust the shifter cables and the derailleur stops as needed to ensure smooth shifting throughout the full range of gears. If you’ve never done this before, you’ll need the manufacturer’s tech sheet or a good bike manual—or a knowledgeable friend. But it’s worth taking the trouble. Under no circumstances ride a bike that shows any inclination to throw the chain off the large cog into the spokes on the rear wheel.

Saddle and Seatpost  Saddle height, tilt, and fore-and-aft position are critical to comfortable and efficient cycling. Adjust as needed—a good local bike shop can be a godsend here—and be prepared to refine the adjustment as you rack up the miles. The great Eddy Merckx used to adjust his saddle height on the move, so to speak. I don’t recommend this approach, however. There was only one Merckx. Mere mortals who need to tweak saddle height should get off their bikes first.

Handlebars, Stem, and Headset  Check for proper adjustment. A well-adjusted headset permits the bars to turn freely, but it has no excessive play. (Test for this by locking the front brakes and shoving the bike backward and forward. If you feel—feel, rather than hear—a slight knocking in the vicinity of the head tube, the headset is probably loose.) Now check that the handlebar is at a comfortable height. If you have an old-style threaded headset, you’ll be able to adjust the height within rather broad limits. Modern threadless headsets are less accommodating, however—though you can make small adjustments by moving spacers around. Make sure the bolts clamping the bars and steering tube are snug, and check them regularly. Inspect the stem for cracks, too. Being up the creek without a paddle pales in comparison to the plight of cyclist whose handlebars come adrift from his fork.

Accessories  Is any bolt loose? Tighten it. (This includes the kickstand bolt.) Do the fenders rub on the tires? Adjust the stays. Make sure the lights light, too, and check that the frame pump is well secured.

Frame and fork  I’ve left this to last, because some questions about the frame can only be answered by inspecting (and riding) the fully assembled bike. Does the bike fit? It should. There’s no easy fix for a bike that’s much too big or too small for you. Assuming that it does fit, eyeball the frame. Is it true? Do the wheels track together? Do they sit squarely in between the stays and fork? Are the frame tubes free of dents and cracks? (A small dent in a steel or aluminum frame isn’t an emergency, though you should get an expert opinion as soon as possible. But any crack, even a hairline crack, is bad news. You’re better off walking.)

Time consuming? Yes. Fussy? You bet. And necessary—absolutely necessary. A properly prepped bike is a joy to ride, but a badly set up machine is an accident waiting to happen.

The foregoing is only an outline, of course. You’ll need more information than my short article provides. This is where a good local bike shop really shines. Or you could ask an experienced friend for help. Or just visit your local library. However you go about it, though, there’s really no substitute for learning to adjust, maintain, and repair your bike. AAA doesn’t offer road service for cyclists, and not many bike shops make house calls.

Related Articles

• • “Bicycling the Rough Stuff: The Pre-Ride Check”
• • “Articles For Beginning Cyclists” Advice from the late Sheldon Brown

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Bikes are cheaper than cars. Well, most bikes are cheaper than most cars. But the sticker price is just the start. Few bikes offered for sale in the States come fully equipped. Kickstand? Hell, no. Fenders? In your dreams. Rack? Maybe, but don’t hold your breath. Front rack? No way! Lights? Who rides at night? Bell (a legal requirement in many places)? Please…

There are a few exceptions, of course. But even better bikes often come up short in the essential accessory department, and few of these bikes are exactly cheap. If you’re on a tight budget, you won’t have much cash left over for things like lights and racks.

It can get pretty discouraging. And the cost mounts up in a hurry. To say nothing of the time required to fit fenders and racks. Which is probably why you often see cyclists with black streaks up their backs carrying groceries in plastic bags hanging from their handlebars. Luckily, a good bike shop can do a lot to bridge the gap. But good bike shops are as rare as fully equipped, street-ready bikes. City dwellers can often take their pick from among competent, helpful shops. The rest of us have to take what we can get. Or do without.

OK. That’s the problem. What’s the solution? You might get lucky and find an online seller who’s overstocked fenders and is letting them go dirt cheap. Then again, you might not. And if you need fenders now, you can’t wait for a sale. But there is one alternative. Call it the Walmart option. More and more Big Box stores are increasing the shelf space they give to bicycle accessories. The stuff isn’t top of the line, but a lot of the time it’s plenty good enough for most purposes. The price is usually right, too. Status-conscious cyclists won’t like it, but if it’s a choice between cheap and cheerful, on the one hand, and doing without, on the other, I know which I’ll take.

What about you? Are you tired of bringing the groceries home in a plastic bag swinging from your handlebars? Then check out what I found for sale at my local Walmart, in the depth of winter:

• • Helmets for all ages and sizes, at sensible prices
• • Headlights and taillights to help you see and be seen
• • Tires and tubes (just don’t expect to find 650Bs)
• • Pumps to take along—and use at home
• • Pressure gauges
• • Rearview mirrors (watch your back!)
• • Bicycle computers (useful, if somewhat depressing at times)
• • Rear cargo racks (no front racks, though)
• • Bags galore: handlebar, saddle, and snack (but no panniers)
• • Cargo nets
• • Trailers for cargo or kids
• • Chainlube and bearing grease
• • A fair selection of basic bike tools
• • Locks
• • Kickstands
• • Bells
• • Pedals
• • Saddles
• • Padded saddle covers
• • Cycling gloves
• • Activeware (not cycle-specific, but perfectly adequate)

There were plenty of inexpensive bikes, too, some of which even boasted fitted fenders. Many of these would make perfectly adequate utility rides, even if they won’t get a second look from the gang at the local college cycle club. Farwell, returning from a hundred-mile string of errands on his bottom-of-the-line “comfort” bike late one summer afternoon, met up with one of these clubs at his last stop. The conversation went like this:

FARWELL: [Eyeing a superlight carbon confection that probably cost as much as his first car] Nice ride.

VELOMINATUS: [Taking in Farwell's dust-caked bike-shaped-object with its bulging panniers] Hmm. You must be local, right? You couldn’t get very far on a fat-tired thing like that.

FARWELL: Nope. Not far. [Glances at cyclometer] Only 97 miles today. Of course, I’ve still got ten to go…

VELOMINATUS: Oh. [Long pause] Well, you have a nice day.

The moral of the story? If money’s tight and you see your bike as transport rather than bling, then good enough is—you guessed it—good enough. And Walmart can be your friend.

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Once upon a time, people of all ages walked. In the small farm town where I grew up, few families had more than one car and a surprising number had none. People walked to work at the local seed plant. Kids walked (or rode their bikes) to school. Mothers pushed babies in carriages to and from one of the three grocery stores or the many doctors’ offices. The seventy-something librarian even cycled around the village retrieving overdue books. And if you needed to get out of town you could take the train.

All that is gone now. The train doesn’t stop at my old home town anymore. The seed plant shut its doors many years ago, along with the local hospital—and the doctors left town soon thereafter. All but one of the grocery stores has closed. And while people still walk, it’s now something to do when there’s nothing interesting on television. The ordinary business of everyday life—work, shopping, taking the kids to the doctor—requires getting in a car.

Sound familiar? Of course it does. Many people I know spend about as much time alone in their cars as they spend with their families at home. And it’s not just adults. Few kids walk to school, even when school is only a ten-minute stroll from their front door. Homeowners complain endlessly about their burgeoning tax bills, but the school buses keep rolling along. The results are easy to see. Whatever his or her age, the “average American” increasingly resembles a Teletubbie in profile (minus the funny topknot). My home county is a case in point. We’re close to the top in the Empire State’s Obesity and Inactivity Stakes, a proud boast that the local Chambers of Commerce somehow forget to include in their press releases. But the Chambers’ flacks aren’t always so sluggish. For example. they’re quick to tout snowmobile and ATV trails as one-stop solutions to the county’s continuing economic malaise. Walkers and cyclists don’t drop enough money at the bars and gas pumps, it seems. So our real problem isn’t our collective inertia. It’s our tight-fisted ways. If we just had more gas-guzzling toys and more places to play with them, all would be well.

There’s more at work here than simple no-nothing perversity and the mechinations of local gasoholics, however. The face of rural America is changing. The car is king. Walkers and cyclists are left to scrabble around for whatever crumbs remain after the king has eaten his fill. Even in small towns, Main Street has surrendered to Big Box storefronts, all of them protected from the threat of pedestrian assault by asphalt moats hundreds of yards wide. Only the boldest walker will attempt to trek across these barren wastelands. And before you can tackle the moat, you first have to get to the Big Box store. Which brings up the subject of sidewalks. What about sidewalks? Often there are none at all, but when, through oversight or nostalgia, a few crumbling concrete slabs somehow survive, they’re ignored from November to May. The roads are kept clear, of course. (The king must be served, right?) As for the sidewalks… Well, look for yourself:

You can’t tell from this picture, but the sidewalk here is uneven, narrow and cracked. Two adults would be hard-pressed to walk abreast, much less pass one another. Luckily, though, pedestrian traffic is nearly nonexistent. And the best bit lies just down the road, where the sidewalk suddenly drops more than two feet to the level of the crossroad on an asphalt berm that descends at a one-in-one grade. If you’re a climber, it’s a good place to practice your flat-foot technique. If you’re not, however—if, say, you’re a young mother pushing a baby in a stroller—it’s something else. Let’s call it a challenge, shall we?

But that’s not all. As you can see, winter adds a little something extra. Since the sidewalk lies below the state highway grade for much of its length, any pedestrian foolish enough to venture out will get a faceful of salt and grit from every passing car. And if that’s still not challenging enough, there’s always the ice-slick surface concealed just below the snow, waiting to send the unwary pedestrian sprawling. Can you say “slip and fall”? Well, don’t worry. Your lawyer can.

Thank goodness the highway is clear. So there’s always a place to walk. But be ready to jump out of the way if one of the kings of the road decides to teach you a lesson, perhaps by swerving dangerously close. It’s not a rare occurrence. Roads are for cars, after all, and many drivers feel duty-bound to remind pedestrians that they belong on the sidewalk. If a few walkers are killed or maimed in the process, that’s just too bad. Kings have no need to defer to lesser mortals.

The moral of my story? Just this: There’s more to the much-ballyhooed “obesity epidemic” than simple laziness, though habitual indolence certainly plays its part. America was once a nation of men and women. Now it’s a nation of cars, and the cars are doing just fine, thanks. But for how long, I wonder? And at what cost?

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