I did something tonight I have never done in 3500 miles of riding Broken Spoke. Something pretty dumb.
I typically ride along one stretch of road on the middle chain ring and tonight when I got to a small hill I realized I was still on the big ring. I click the shifter (brifter) and tick, tick ,tick. What the? (Sometimes when up shifting the chain will overshoot and fall off the big ring. Sometimes when downshifting the chain is slow to drop to the next ring. It's not an adjustment thing, it's just a finicky POS setup that sometimes has issues.) I look down and click the shifter again, tick, tick, tick and jump. The chain jumps clear off the small ring. Crap.
Now normally if the chain falls off I'd just stop the bike and fix it. Not tonight. I was being stubborn in trying to get the chain to shift and since the whole reason for wanting to down shift in the first place was the hill I was starting to climb, I didn't realize how fast I slowed down. And subsequently stopped....
I tried to get my feet unclipped quickly but couldn't; PLOP. Right on my left side in the middle of the road still clipped into the pedals. From a bystanders' point of view I must have looked like a fainting goat...or an idiot. I'm betting on the idiot analogy.
Finally the clips let go of my feet and I get up. I look over the bike, get the chain back on, and collect the one casualty in the whole fiasco, the front wheel reflector. I have no idea how that managed to shatter but but it did so in spectacular fashion.
There's something I haven't done since sometime in 2000 on the mountain bike only this time the only thing hurt was my pride.
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Showing posts with label Bike Wrecks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bike Wrecks. Show all posts
Monday, October 26, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
My Best Bike Stories - Part 2 - The Nectar Debacle
I've wrecked a lot. My friends wrecked a lot. Whether it was youthful indiscretion or the lack of fear, we found ourselves on the wrong side of the pedals countless times. We did a lot of fun and stupid things on bikes. In this mini-series I will try to describe our most notable adventures, they aren't all fairy tales but they're not all gruesome either, some are even hilarious.
The Nectar Debacle ~1988-1990
As youths we were addicted to sugar. It didn't matter what it was but if it had high fructose corn syrup in it we were all over it. After school we'd stop at our local market, pick up our junk food and speed off to a place to scarf it down.
On this particular day there were three of us heading over to a another friends house. I was on my 12 speed road bike (and obviously in the road) with J and Jo on their mountain bikes in the sidewalk. (Yeah yeah yeah they shouldn't have been on the sidewalk in the first place but then there would be no story). We were in the old section of town and by old I'm mean most houses were built between 1700 and 1900. There were large trees and large hedge rows dividing the front yards and the sidewalk. The sidewalk was concrete, narrow and very bumpy.
So there we were, buzzing down this well traveled street with our sugar loot and screwing around as per usual. J and I were side by side (he on the sidewalk, me on the street, remember?) and Jo lagging behind on the sidewalk. J had bought a 2 liter of cola ("nectar of the gods" as my wife calls it) and was carrying it on his left arm like a football. His right arm was on the handlebar.
Next thing I hear is "OH SH......." I look to my right and J is gone. I look over my right shoulder and he's still no where to be found. I jack up on the brakes and turn around to see Jo doubled over on his bike. I ride up to hear Jo laughing uncontrollably and pointing towards the hedge row.
At first I'm taken aback by what I saw but then had to laugh once I processed the image in my head. There was J stuck in the hedge still on the bike just like he was riding it but his rear wheel was a foot or so off the ground. He was still clutching the soda bottle like a running back. "I saved it" he said glancing down toward the bottle. The image of him stuck in the hedges matched the last image I had of him riding down the street perfectly only with the rear wheel off the ground and him being stationary.
Then he said "help".
Naturally I took the bottle from him and threatened to leave him there. Eventually I did help him out and pull the needles off of him but we sure weren't going to let that one go for a while (20 years later and I'm still writing about it!).
Apparently he had veered into rock at the end of a driveway and was launched into the hedge. He and the bike were unharmed except for the blow to the ego and we continued on our way.
g
The Nectar Debacle ~1988-1990
As youths we were addicted to sugar. It didn't matter what it was but if it had high fructose corn syrup in it we were all over it. After school we'd stop at our local market, pick up our junk food and speed off to a place to scarf it down.
On this particular day there were three of us heading over to a another friends house. I was on my 12 speed road bike (and obviously in the road) with J and Jo on their mountain bikes in the sidewalk. (Yeah yeah yeah they shouldn't have been on the sidewalk in the first place but then there would be no story). We were in the old section of town and by old I'm mean most houses were built between 1700 and 1900. There were large trees and large hedge rows dividing the front yards and the sidewalk. The sidewalk was concrete, narrow and very bumpy.
So there we were, buzzing down this well traveled street with our sugar loot and screwing around as per usual. J and I were side by side (he on the sidewalk, me on the street, remember?) and Jo lagging behind on the sidewalk. J had bought a 2 liter of cola ("nectar of the gods" as my wife calls it) and was carrying it on his left arm like a football. His right arm was on the handlebar.
Next thing I hear is "OH SH......." I look to my right and J is gone. I look over my right shoulder and he's still no where to be found. I jack up on the brakes and turn around to see Jo doubled over on his bike. I ride up to hear Jo laughing uncontrollably and pointing towards the hedge row.
At first I'm taken aback by what I saw but then had to laugh once I processed the image in my head. There was J stuck in the hedge still on the bike just like he was riding it but his rear wheel was a foot or so off the ground. He was still clutching the soda bottle like a running back. "I saved it" he said glancing down toward the bottle. The image of him stuck in the hedges matched the last image I had of him riding down the street perfectly only with the rear wheel off the ground and him being stationary.
Then he said "help".
Naturally I took the bottle from him and threatened to leave him there. Eventually I did help him out and pull the needles off of him but we sure weren't going to let that one go for a while (20 years later and I'm still writing about it!).
Apparently he had veered into rock at the end of a driveway and was launched into the hedge. He and the bike were unharmed except for the blow to the ego and we continued on our way.
g
Friday, March 20, 2009
My Best Bike Stories - Part 1 - My Big Wreck
I've wrecked a lot. My friends wrecked a lot. Whether it was youthful indiscretion or the lack of fear, we found ourselves on the wrong side of the pedals countless times. We did a lot of fun and stupid things on bikes. In this mini-series I will try to describe our most notable adventures, they aren't all fairy tales but they're not all gruesome either, some are even hilarious.
My Big Wreck ~1990
It was summer. It was dusk. I was late. I was wearing sunglasses. I was wearing headphones. I was not smart.
I was traveling home from a day at the beach with friends so the attire was minimal: ripped, cut-off jeans, a T-shirt cut into a muscle shirt, and aviator sunglasses the size of a bus windshield. (hey stop snickering, it was 1990!) There was no safety equipment in sight with Creedence Clearwater Revival blasting in my ears .
I knew the route well, I'd traveled it almost daily to get to my friends houses. It was a bike path along my street and there was a small downhill that we would try go as fast as possible down. OK, we tried to go as fast as possible everywhere, we were testosterone laden teens (wait, don't I still ride that way?). Any how, I remember checking my speed, 25mph, and then going ass over teakettle.
What the hell happened I asked myself as I was sliding, rolling, and bouncing down the street. When I came to a stop all I could think of was "where's my bike?" All I could hear was a kid screaming. When I spun around and found the bike it was bouncing end for end down the street. It stopped at least 50 feet away in the middle of the road and now my focus was on "I have to get it out of the road before someone runs it over". Yes my priorities were a little off.
I got up and tried to run to the bike. Something wasn't right. I wasn't in much pain but I could hardly walk let alone run. I hobbled to the bike and tried to roll it. It wouldn't roll. "What happened to my bike" I thought. A lot was racing through my head if you couldn't tell.
The scream soundtrack that I had been hearing since the moment of impact was from a 3-4 year old boy whose 7-8 year old brother I'd just hit. Once their mother calmed down the younger boy, the older boy unleashed a tongue lashing on me that only a sailor could give. He's was blaming me for intentionally hitting him. Hitting someone or something on a bike is not something one does intentionally.
Here's the rundown, so to speak; As I was coming down the hill, I checked the speedometer and veered to the left slightly. Just beyond a wooded section these kids were coming up out of a hollow out of their driveway. I never saw them or heard them.
Their mom saw how bad I was looking and figured her kids were OK and she took me home. Once at the hospital they X-Rays showed the tendon on my big toe had parted ways with the bone. Doctors recommendation: Don't try to move your toe for 4-6 weeks! Gee thanks.
Aside from the toe (which effectively prevented me from walking without crutches) I was a hurting unit. My palms, elbows, knees, and shoulders all had bad road rash. My hip was bruised from the walkman and the CCR tape was ground down after the door to the walkman was chewed off. The tape still plays by the way.
The bike was battered; potato chip like wheels, bent fork, ripped seat and bar tape, and scratched all over.
So what's the moral to the story? Always wear a helmet, gloves, appropriate eye wear for the conditions and never, EVER wear headphones on a bike.
g
My Big Wreck ~1990
It was summer. It was dusk. I was late. I was wearing sunglasses. I was wearing headphones. I was not smart.
I was traveling home from a day at the beach with friends so the attire was minimal: ripped, cut-off jeans, a T-shirt cut into a muscle shirt, and aviator sunglasses the size of a bus windshield. (hey stop snickering, it was 1990!) There was no safety equipment in sight with Creedence Clearwater Revival blasting in my ears .
I knew the route well, I'd traveled it almost daily to get to my friends houses. It was a bike path along my street and there was a small downhill that we would try go as fast as possible down. OK, we tried to go as fast as possible everywhere, we were testosterone laden teens (wait, don't I still ride that way?). Any how, I remember checking my speed, 25mph, and then going ass over teakettle.
What the hell happened I asked myself as I was sliding, rolling, and bouncing down the street. When I came to a stop all I could think of was "where's my bike?" All I could hear was a kid screaming. When I spun around and found the bike it was bouncing end for end down the street. It stopped at least 50 feet away in the middle of the road and now my focus was on "I have to get it out of the road before someone runs it over". Yes my priorities were a little off.
I got up and tried to run to the bike. Something wasn't right. I wasn't in much pain but I could hardly walk let alone run. I hobbled to the bike and tried to roll it. It wouldn't roll. "What happened to my bike" I thought. A lot was racing through my head if you couldn't tell.
The scream soundtrack that I had been hearing since the moment of impact was from a 3-4 year old boy whose 7-8 year old brother I'd just hit. Once their mother calmed down the younger boy, the older boy unleashed a tongue lashing on me that only a sailor could give. He's was blaming me for intentionally hitting him. Hitting someone or something on a bike is not something one does intentionally.
Here's the rundown, so to speak; As I was coming down the hill, I checked the speedometer and veered to the left slightly. Just beyond a wooded section these kids were coming up out of a hollow out of their driveway. I never saw them or heard them.
Their mom saw how bad I was looking and figured her kids were OK and she took me home. Once at the hospital they X-Rays showed the tendon on my big toe had parted ways with the bone. Doctors recommendation: Don't try to move your toe for 4-6 weeks! Gee thanks.
Aside from the toe (which effectively prevented me from walking without crutches) I was a hurting unit. My palms, elbows, knees, and shoulders all had bad road rash. My hip was bruised from the walkman and the CCR tape was ground down after the door to the walkman was chewed off. The tape still plays by the way.
The bike was battered; potato chip like wheels, bent fork, ripped seat and bar tape, and scratched all over.
So what's the moral to the story? Always wear a helmet, gloves, appropriate eye wear for the conditions and never, EVER wear headphones on a bike.
g
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