I went to call Natalie inside for the night and she was crying.
"My bike won't move!" she shrieked.
Sure enough, the front tire would not spin. I asked what she did and she was like, "NOTHING! Just RIDING!"
I had to carry the bike inside, which was no easy task. I crashed into the bush. Next, I went into the garage, opened Tom's tool drawer, and pulled out the one I needed. I think it's called a wrench. Then I marched back over to the bike and said, "Mommy will fix this," because I want Natalie to know that girls are quite capable of fixing their property.
I peered at the bike and behaved like I knew what I was looking at. I didn't. But I wanted Natalie to think I did, so I went, "It's the brake. It's clamped down on the wheel. We have to loosen the brake. Simple." So I clamped the wrench on a silver domed screw thingy, there was a clicking sound, and then the brakes basically fell apart.
But the wheel moved again.
"So," I said, not panicking. "I'll just have to tighten the brake again. But not so much, because we want the wheel to move."
The thing was, I couldn't tighten the brakes. I don't know what I did wrong. I tried to tighten the silver domed screw thingy, and it wouldn't.
I called the bike a worthless fu*k, because I curse when I'm upset. Natalie reminded me to use friendly words, but I was not feeling friendly. What was wrong with the bike? Why wouldn't the brake work anymore?
"So," I said to Natalie. "You'll just have to stop yourself with you feet."
Natalie's eyes went wide. "I can't! I'll crash into things. I'll mess up my SHOES!"
"I don't know what to tell you. Daddy isn't here and Mommy is confused."
I posted this picture on Facebook, complaining about my ordeal.
Luckily my friend Jennifer said her husband Bobby could help. They came over the following day and Bobby was able to fix the brakes. I have no idea how he did it. I probably should have watched in case it happens again. Oops.
But I am so grateful they work! Thank goodness for helpful friends.