The reason I got a new bicycle on Tuesday (well, ordered on Monday to have outfitted the way I like by James at Outdoor Omnibus, then picked up Tuesday) is because I really messed up my last one.
Last Sunday was such a beautiful afternoon with the sun shining and my sick of it being grey I decided to follow one of the bicycle routes on this great map:
http://hsvbike.com/?page_id=544I chose to go on bike route 69, from the construction on Meridian and Cleveland to Wade Mountain.
It was a pleasant and beautiful ride I took nice and slow, but I realized my batteries for my headlight probably wouldn't last as long as I need them too as it was getting dark pretty fast as I hadn't left until a little before 16:00. I stopped at a convenience store and got a couple of AA batteries.
I go past Winchester and after I cross North Parkway, just before I get to the suburbs, my chain breaks.
And I forgot to bring my chain tool. D'oh!
After mucking about for about thirty minutes, I rig my chain back together using my hands and electrical tape, as the duct tape I usually also have is inconveniently still at home where I was planning to take it with me. D'oh! yet again.
So it's kind of working and I'm thinking it can't be that much farther, so why don't I just keep on, but even more slowly, instead of giving up and just going home.
So from downtown Huntsville, I had passed A&M college and entered into suburbs and suddenly I was on a beautiful tree-lined winding country road with a barn and cows.
I get to the Wade mountain entrance and notice on their map that there's a trail called "The Devil's Race Track". Then I look at the trails and they're still too muddy to ride, so I decide to go home.
I get about fifty feet when my bike stops suddenly with a wrench that almost throws me. Panicking I jump off it and roll away from it in case there's a car coming up behind me.
No cars, and I drag my bike off the road.
My rear derailleur had done this:
http://mountainbike.about.com/od/basicbikemaintenance/f/Der_to_spokes.htmRight into the spokes.
Now I have to get the chain and derailleur off just so I can roll it home.
Ended up using a pocket knife to saw the gear cable to get the derailleur off. Then I have to work really, really hard to get the chain to come apart after having jury-rigged it earlier [but that wasn't what caused the problem as I had thought, it was that the derailleur itself was already bent some].
I start walking home. A couple of trucks pass, then a car asks if I'm okay. I tell them I'm fine and thanks and they drive on.
The strangest feeling comes over me, a calm serene feeling as I realize that not once was I cursing or mad, just that I had had a series of adventures. As in my favorite G.K. Chesterton quote, "They're not inconveniences. They're a series of adventures."
Another cars stops and asks if I'm okay with my broken bike. I say I'm okay. He then asks where I'm going. I tell him Oakwood and Meridian. He says that's a long way to walk.
I think about it. It's already past 18:00, and I'd promised my wife I'd be home by 19:00. [I'm probably the last person in the US without a cell phone].
I think about his motives, then I think about what I would have done. The same thing. He says to put my bike in his trunk. It's small, but I do after he gets his stuff out of his trunk. I don't have my bungee cords and he has nothing to tie down his trunk. I end up using my visibility vest wrapped around his license plate tag holder and the trunk hook on the bottom.
While I had just gone exploring that day, Jay said he had just gone up that road because he was just curious as to where it went.
He says he'll drop me off at my house and I'm wary of giving him that information and I thought, "No, sometimes you just have to trust people."
Devon was mad at me because he could have been an axe murderer. Her reaction is what most people would have, I expect.
I explained that as far as he knew I could have been one too.
I can't go through life fearing everything that movies and tv and tv news and tv psuedo-news tell me too.
While bad things do happen often, that doesn't mean good things don't happen often too.
James the great bike repairman at Outdoor Omnibus said that derailleurs are meant to break like that on Mountain bikes. I had messed up so much on Veronica [chain, derailleur, gearing, spokes, brakes, fenders, rack, cabling] with that and I was planning on buying a new bike in March anyway, that that incident just sealed the deal a month sooner.
So Veronica died, and this one with the orange rack is Betty [but she can't call me Al].