I’m not a natural mechanic. Bike parts break in my hands, bolts strip, threads rip and tools shatter. Many an evening I’d sheepishly besiege my mechanically-minded neighbour’s house, nursing the latest casualty of my heavy handedness like a wounded bird, hoping he could fix the mess I had made.
That all changed when I moved to the South of France.
When your helpful neighbour is a continent away and a trip to a bike shop is
