Magic bike fairy

There is an ongoing battle at my house over bike tires. Specifically flat ones.

If you ride a bike, you should know how to change a flat tire. Changing pedals, lubing bike chains and cleaning brakes; all of that is optional if you want to run to the bike store everytime your bike squeaks. Which, I admit, I have done before. Not so much lately, but the guys at Cupertino Bike Shop really do enjoy my visits. But flat tires. That's an entirely different story. What are you going to do when you're out riding and get a flat?

We have several bikes at our house. Suprisingly enough my husband, the non biker, owns most of them. Two of his bikes have flats. This is a problem for him because he doesn't want to change the tubes, but he needs/wants his bike to ride to work. He also thinks that one bike is as good as another and I have caught him trying to sneak out of the house with my Juliana AND my road bike. I share a bed, blankets, a checking account, and on one occasion my toothbrush with my husband. I will not share my bikes. For one thing he mashes gears like he mashes potatoes. So unless he fixes those flats, he's stuck. For the past week he has been dropping hints that the magic bike fairy might come along and fix his bikes for him.

And maybe there's a Santa Clause.

Last night, he finally gave in. How many people does it take to change a flat tire?

"Honey, where are the spare tubes?" (note that we live in a very small condo, yet he needs to yell this from the back room)
"In my tri bag."
"Which bag is that?" (still yelling)
"It's the very large bag that is sitting open right by your feet. In fact, it's the only bag in the room with you."
"But which tubes do I use?"
"The ones in the bag."
"I don't see them."

This is because they might be under a swim cap and not right up top in plain view. If something is not in plain view at our house, it's "lost" according to my husband.

"The damn tire won't come off!"
"Are you using the tire levers?"
...pause...
"Where are the tire levers?"

Forty minutes later he comes walking into the kitchen, holding a bike pump.

"Where's the other pump? This one is broken. It doesn't pump air."
"Do you have it set for the right valve?"
"Valve?"
"You know, presta or schraeder?"
...blank look...
"pointy, or not pointy?"
"I don't know. It just doesn't pump air."

Right. So I change the valve around, and he disappears. An hour later he's finished. Just as he is settling down on the sofa we hear a loud "pop!" The sound of a tire exploding.

"How much air did you pump into the tire?"
"I dunno. 150? 200?"

What do you know? There is a magic bike fairy, and she does fix flat tires.