Kovan, 12 km.
My rear wheel and I take the train to bikeshop#2. That is after bikeshopman#1 says my hub is dead. He wants to sell me a new wheel set, saying my rims are concave - notwithstanding that the wear line is visible and I put the rims on little over 2,000 km ago.
I tell bikeshopman#2 I'm glad he's around. No one wants to do his dirty job; they'd rather sell me bling bling, whereas he brings things back to life. For $50, including a new freehub body unit, he brings my rear wheel back to life. In fact, he brought the old unit back to life too, by bashing it on the ground after removing it. I tell him "no, I don't want it". He agrees not to reinstall it; like he said, it might fail again in the middle of nowhere. He removes the seal and tuts tuts. It is crud-encrusted. I tell him, it's the dirt of different countries.
Back to bikeshop#2, by bicycle. The rear wheel has the jitters so bad, the rear derailleur does not shift well. I cycle gingerly. Otherwise, the chain will skip like a schoolgirl skipping school.
Bikeshop man doesn't understand why this happens; he says the freehub body unit is the same dimensions as my old one. He moves a washer from one side to the other. Well, seems to work now. Oh, listen to the hub click and spin like a windmill in a breeze. How hard I've been labouring, without knowing it.
Today is the first time I'm using "new" pedals; they are old, but hardly used, from a relative. They're so new, they glow. I thought my old cleats were worn out. But no, it's the pedals - I know so as new cleats slosh about in them too.