Friday, July 25, 2014

Friday Follies ~~ Walking Home


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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