Some bikes get used so much that they tend to get neglected by the mechanic of the house. The yellow commuter bike is one of those. I ride it 5 or 6 days a week, and leave it sitting in the house on the days when I ride another bike.
Occasionally, it will give me a subtle hint that it need some loving. Recently, that hint came in the form of a broken crankarm
on the way to work. (In all fairness
to me, though, broken crankarms
are usually not a maintenance issue, although a developing crack might have come to light in the workstand
if I had been paying more attention.)
Yesterday, on the way home from work, I received another little hint that I need to pay a bit more attention to the bike.
At the 6 mile mark of my 9 mile ride home, I was accelerating away from a stop sign when I heard an odd crunching sound. "Crap", I thought (or words to that effect), as I stopped pedaling and coasted for a few feet.
Keep in mind that I was coasting on a fixed gear bicycle. That is not a sign of a healthy drivetrain
, by the way.
I stopped and looked behind me, only to see my chain lying like a dead snake in the middle of the road
. "Stinking to high heaven," as Loudon
Oddly, two links had blown apart, rather than the typical one link. Unfortunately, I had used the spare links I carry with me to repair another rider's chain, a while back, and never replaced them in my toolkit.
Crap. Or, again, words to that effect.
The chain was too short, once reassembled, to run with my gearing. So, I started walking/scootering
/coasting down the hills. Unfortunately (there's that word, again), the 3 miles to my house consisted of 2,6 miles of uphill and level ground, and only 0.4 miles of coastable
I walked along, pushing the bike. I passed by 8 or 10 people as I walked, none of whom asked me if I need a hand. One guy asked if I was tired.
"What?" I said, and I'm sure my aggravation was apparent in my voice.
I then explained to him why I was walking. Then, rather than offer me a lift, or ask if he could help in any way, he just
went back to loading something into his trunk.
I was only about a mile and a half from home, so I wouldn't have accepted a ride, anyway. But, still...
As I walked, I noticed my left heel was sore. Blister. Blood in my shoe, when I got home.
Crap. Or...well, you know.
Oh, well, at least I have a new chain, now. Not much else to go wrong, with a singlespeed fixie drive train
, I suppose.