It happens. It’s the cyclist version of the
infamous “Walk of Shame.” It
happens on a bike ride. Life is
good. The rider is having a great
time out on the bike, and then… SOMETHING HAPPENS. The “something” could be a mechanical,
a flat, a physical problem, a crash, it really doesn’t matter. For some reason the ride is not only
interrupted, but the rider must walk
back. That’s right, walk. Not ride a reduced “struggle home pace.” Walk. All the way back. Walk home.
It’s happened to me. Not often, mind you, but it has. And more than once, damnit!
In the early days it seemed to
happen with some frequency. Bikes
were a lot less reliable then, and I knew a lot less about preparing them and re-pairing them. It astounds me to think of all the
times I left home without so much as a pump, spare tube, or patch kit. Believe me, the tires of that day were not the amazing wonders we have
now. (Kevlar hadn’t even been
invented yet.) More, I tended to
ride hard, and with not much skill.
Things broke. A lot.
In much more recent times things
improved a lot. Bikes became
much more reliable. I’d learned a
lot. But… As I’ve often repeated, “Ride long
enough, and everything happens to
you, good or bad.”
There was the day back in the mid 90s. The one I refer to as my
worst day on a bike.
I was working a murderous
job. I had an insanely loaded “schedule.” Time on the bike was hard to come by,
and precious. I managed to clear
an afternoon for a good long ride.
Better still it was a lovely sunny Summer day. With great joy, I saddled up and went.
I flatted about a mile and a half
from home. Spit! Dirty word! But after all, not that big a deal.
I broke out the supplies and
replaced the tube. Pumped it up,
sweating like a pig. (I did mention that it was a sunny Summer day?) Flat repaired and rear wheel back in
the bike. Tools and tube
stashed. Off I went.
A couple of good hills later I had
the second flat. This time on the
front. Grr.
Fix flat and proceed to ride
again. (Of course I had committed both of my spare tubes. That’s as in, all the spares I was carrying.)
A short distance later, the rear
went down again. (There followed a
bit of an attitude adjustment session.)
I repaired the third flat. Of necessity this meant locating a pinhole and patching it
before re-installing the tube. I
was not a happy camper. I made a
decision. A good one I think. I turned around and headed back toward
home. My intention was to return home,
pick up more spare tubes, cool off, do a thorough and complete tire inspection,
and then resume riding.
I’d barely started to ride back
before I encountered one of those hills I’ve mentioned. About midway up the hill, the chain
broke. That provided me with some excitement. Also, before I got back under control and got the bike
stopped, I’d been treated to the enchanting sight of the chain, writhing like a snake,
slithering downhill, and off the road, and into the weeds.
Dismount. Search for chain. Find it. Brush the crud off of it. Re-install chain and repair broken link. (Don’t you carry a chain tool with you? Doesn’t everybody?)
I’d just about finished packing up
form the chain repair, when I noticed that the rear tire was flat. AGAIN!!! (If you’ve been counting, that was
number four!)
After turning up the volume on the
gumption control, I repaired the flat and (finally)
started again for home. I was
still a mile short of the house when the fifth flat happened.
I think I showed admirable
restraint. For example, only a
couple of birds and small animals died as a result of the language I used. I did not pick the bike up and hurl it into traffic or the woods. I just accepted the situation. Clearly, I was not meant to ride that
day. I walked the rest of the way
home.
As walks go, it wasn't really all that bad. My total round trip was about five miles, and the final walk was roughly a mile. Of course it was done in cycling shoes with exposed cleats.
It’s times like that, thankfully extremely
rare, which serve to make the good rides all that much better.
Do you have a “Bad Ride Story”?
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