Long bicycle trips are great. Enter the unscheduled gift of equipment failure. To be sure, most of us who travel extensively with our bikes carry around one or two inner tubes, a pump, and sometimes even a spare tire still in its original box. A wrench and/or pliers and that takes care of flat tires. How often does anybody anticipate something a little more severe? I could easily suggest breaking a chain, or even screwing up a pedal so it keeps coming off the threads on the crank. But that’s not what happened to me this fine spring day.
I started hearing noises from what I thought was the bottom bracket, you know, the axle connecting the pedals in the middle of the frame. There was grinding noise which was not good. So why didn’t I turn around and get back home? Why, indeed. I had to go out to the country, and my milkcrates were packed with food and a change of clothes, nevermind the hardware. Therefore I decided to cop out, do the right thing, and call a friend of mine. I knew he had a car, didn’t drive it much, and he was cool. And i picked the wrong day to have my bike misfire because he garbled some excuse about how someone else was driving it. Then I called yet another buddy who would have come and taxied me, but I guess it was bad timing, and he was in the middle of a meeting.
No, I didn’t start walking back. I had barely set out and it was obvious the safe thing to do would have been skipping the project. My mechanical experiences have tended to be a combination of improvised components and fingers crossed. Sometimes the equipment would be patient and merciful. Then there were those moments when that crucial component being exposed to laws such as friction, pressure, torque, or whatever, would finally collapse. Putting my optimism to the task, I decided to try the bicycle again, and test its resistance. It worked, after some pushing, and it seemed as if I pedaled through whatever rust I imagined had invaded the interior of the turning part I thought was having trouble. Today’s mission wasn’t going to be deterred by anything mundane such as risk management.
Turns out my crapshoot with the equipment was partially successful. I managed to pass the half way mark along the river and figured I had managed to pedal the grit out of whatever was grinding when the chain locked up. No fear, I got off the road and immediately saw the chain had lodged itself between the gears on the back wheel and the hub itself. It was the freewheel which was coming loose, and since it was wobbling and creating space the chain had found its way where it wasn’t supposed to go. I dislodged the chain and found the freewheel was wobbling on the hub, and I was wrong once again. The perception that I was grinding the bottom bracket was famously mistaken, and here I was in the middle of the journey.
The prospect of taking a cab was of course way beyond anything I could manage. I mean I kept on going since my pedals were still transferring propulsion to the wheels. There was no sense reaching out over the telephone to my destination since I knew I wasn’t close enough to get picked up. Instead, I stopped switching gears, and just shut up and tried not to do any more damage. And it worked, to a point, allowing me to discover the implications of sustained cycling with failing equipment. Eventually you will achieve various forms of disintegration. This is of the low tech variety, like when you finally realize one part detached from the next. I had completely disassembled the gear cluster from the hub and now was without any torque whatsoever. It was time to walk.
Nevertheless, I was within range of getting ferried by the likes of Shawn and Roger, and certainly it was helpful to retain a few cell phone minutes for the may day call. Of course I had the usual ribbing about cyclists and their penchant for hogging the road, but that was negligible compared with a 2 hour hike. I got picked up at the agreed intersection about a quarter hour later. I’m sure most are wondering how in any way this could be considered an eventful anecdote worthy of a story around a campfire. It isn’t. What IS significant however is the balance of estimates which drove me to speculate on how easy it would be to get somewhere. I knew that the closer I was to certain strategic points on the compass, the easier it would be to have my support network drop what they’re doing and help me. But I had no precise idea as to what was wrong or how long my bike would last. By the way, it wasn’t raining which would have made matters slightly more challenging. If you’re not already a cyclist invested in traveling without engines, then keep it recreational. When its your primary form of transportation its easier to take the risk. I still have to get back from the country, but thats another story entirely.
this is not an easy title... 