Is there anything worse than a mechanic who makes you feel like a chump for not knowing every last thing about how to fix your bike? (It's like, dude, you'd be out of a job if I could.) Huckleberry Bicycle, shrewdly located on a block of Market Street past which the vast majority of cyclist commuters pedal, is one place where you're guaranteed not to stammer and go red in the face when talking repairs. The dudes are friendly, the Cannondales and Simcoes are spiffy, and there's a Nintendo set up so you can kill time while waiting to get that flat patched. Better still, if some meth-head stole your seat and they've got one lying around in the back that fits, they might just give it to you for nothing. With a smile.