An Unbelievable Ride

Due to travel and family responsibilities, I hadn't been on my road bike and done any serious miles in more than a month. This past weekend would be the weekend that I would change that injustice.

I came home from work Friday evening and made it perfectly clear to my wife that Saturday I was going on an 80 mile ride starting on the West side of the James River Bridge, riding up to the Surry ferry and crossing over to Jamestown, taking the Colonial Parkway through Williamsburg to Yorktown and finally traveling the back roads of York County home. As you can see, I had it all planned out. Then - my phone rang and I was obligated to go to work Saturday morning.

I didn't get home until around 1:30 on Saturday afternoon. Maybe the 80 miler was out of the question, but I was hell bent on getting some riding in. I ran in the house, pulled on the Lycra, grabbed a couple water bottles and headed out to my garage. I reached for my road bike and wouldn't you know it, the rear wheel was flat. Not to be that easily thwarted, I grabbed one of two spare tubes from my saddle bag and made short order of that flat.  Prior to leaving I made several command decisions.  First, I decided to leave the camera home, cause I was going to ride hard and won't planning on stopping to take any pics.    Second, I was leaving that dad-gum cell phone at home as well.

I pedaled away. It felt good to be riding. No camera - no cell phone - no stress. It was just me and my bike. I was free. I was independent. I was in control of my own destiny - until - I noticed that the rear of my bike felt a bit soft. I looked at my rear wheel and, much to my chagrin, it was flat.

Even with this set back, I did not lose heart. I had another spare tube. With well rehearsed motions, I quickly changed the flat and, using my CO2 charger, with a two second blast pumped up the tire to 100 psi.  One second later, the tire was flatter than before, thanks to the separation of my valve stem from the tube. It was at this point that utter despair began to gnaw at my innards. Here I was. 15 miles from home. No more tubes. No patch kit. No cell phone.

I was about a half mile from a main arterial road. With bike in tow, I clip clopped toward it in search of a pay phone.  I found not one, but two phone booths. I shouldn't have been surprised to find them both missing that essential piece of equipment that makes a phone booth a phone booth, a phone.   My grasp of control grew tenuous at best.

It was at this, my darkest hour, that I noticed the city bus sign. I rummaged through my saddle bag and to my utter joy, found my stash of emergency money. A few minutes later, the bus happened along. I put my bike on the front rack and climbed aboard. As I surveyed my fellow travelers, I immediately ascertained that I was the only person on the bus wearing spandex. Judging by the look on their faces, I appeared to be the only person to ever ride that bus wearing spandex. I took my seat and kept a weary eye on my bike. I expected at any moment to watch it bounce off the rack and hear the crunching sound of carbon fiber as it passed swiftly under where I sat. It would be the coup de grace.

When I finally pushed my lame steed into my driveway, I took care of the essential business first.   I reached into my frig and took out a cold beer.  Then I sat back and took the time to ponder a truly unbelievable ride, which did have one high point - I learned how to use the city bus, bike rack.  Too bad I didn't have a camera to record it.

A Derailleur Mystery

It was a dark and stormy night...

Well, actually it was the crystal, clear dawn of a new day. My bike was loaded, it's lights were flashing, it was poised for the start of another routine commute to work.

I pushed the bike from the garage, straddled it and placed a foot on the pedal to push off. Much to my surprise, it would not budge. Try as I may, the pedals would not go round. No turning of pedals = no turning of wheels = no forward momentum = no riding this bike to work.

I looked down to ascertain the cause of said pedalessness. The chain hung loose between the chain ring and rear derailleur. The chain was knotted and jammed. The light was too poor and the time too short to properly diagnose the problem. Not willing to fore go commuting on such a beautiful day, I swapped lights, bags, pedals and butt to a different bike in my harem.

Upon returning home that evening, I mounted the ailing bike in the repair stand, opened a cold beer, sat upon a nearby stool and studied the offending derailleur...


...notice that the chain was position such that it sat atop the small metal tab that spanned across the two rails of the derailleur cage. This tab is specifically designed to keep the chain from coming out of the cage and doing what it was doing. There is physically no way for the chain to get outside of this tab. I shuddered to think of the evil forces at work to conceive such a sinister act.

The only way to get the chain back in place was to either disassemble the derailleur or open a link in the chain. I chose the latter path and while I was at it decided to disassemble and clean the entire drive train.

As I was cleaning the derailleur on my work bench I noticed two small grooves on top of the aforementioned tab...

Those grooves were the exact width of the chain and bespoke of the chain riding upon this surface for some period of time. Owing solely to my superior powers of observation and deduction, the pieces of this troubling puzzle fell into place and this perplexing mystery was solved. The chain didn't happen to pop outside the derailleur. It didn't make it's way past the small metal tab. The chain traversed this improper position because I mounted it that way. A couple weeks earlier, I had taken the chain off to clean it and when I put it back on, I obviously threaded it incorrectly. So that was why I'd been hearing a clicking sound from the direction of my derailleur.

I Have To vs I Want To

This past Tuesday, I drove my truck to work for the first time in almost a year and a half.

It was raining, but I've ridden in far harder rain.

It was cold, but I've ridden in far colder temperatures.

The reason I drove is far more complicated. It all started with this...

...rubbing brakes. For the last couple weeks I've been having trouble with my wheels rubbing against my brakes. The previous night, I decided to rectify this situation in preparation for the upcoming commuting week. When I put these new brakes on my bike, I realized that I had to move the pads all the way to the very end of the arms to barely clear the tires. As the pads wore and became wider, they started to infringe upon the tire. I tried an assortment of adjustments to no avail, become increasingly frustrated and desperate in the process.

It was getting late, I was tired, cold and hungry, but I couldn't stop. I had to ride to work the next morning. My other bikes were either in the middle of preventative maintenance or remodeling, so they were unridable. This bike was my only option. It had to be fixed. I had to ride to work.

It was at this point that I stopped and considered my state of mind. Here I was, forgoing rest and food all because I had this perception that I had to ride to work. I started riding to work because I wanted to and now it had become this inward obligation. What was I trying to prove? Who was I trying to impress? I had become a slave to myself. That simply would not do. I dropped my tools, straightened up, turned off the light and walked out of my garage. "I'm taking the truck tomorrow", I said to myself. Not because I have to, but because I want to. It was time to break this vicious cycle of bike commuting out of obligation so that I could get back to bike commuting out of love.

When I got home that evening, in a much calmer state of mind, I switched back to my older brakes that had longer reach and the bike was ready for me to ride to work the next day. Not because I have to, but because I want to. I plan on making sure I keep it that way in the future.

Perfect Day for an Overhaul

When I awoke the morning after Christmas, the weather outside was indeed frightfully beautiful...

There would be no going out that day and for several days after. It was a perfect time to do a little PM on my Commuting Bike.

Over the last 6 months, I've ridden that bike to work everyday through all manner of inclement conditions.

It's been rained on, snowed on and covered with road grit.
It's been ridden on roads, dirt, gravel and sidewalks.
It's been ridden through pot holes, mud, 12" of standing water and 2" of icy slush.

Through it all, it has uttered not a word of complaint, but I can tell she's in need of a little TLC.

So it was up in the repair stand...

Cleaning the chain...

Repacking the hubs...

Gentle application of a little elbow grease...

She now shines bright, beautiful, greased, lubes and ready for work to start in the new year...