Today, I broke my bike. The clamp that holds my brake onto the handle bar sheared right off.
There is always a sinking feeling when you know that your ride has been cut short by a broken bike.
Endorphins are replaced by sorrow and despair.
It’s not the walk back that hurts nor the price of replacing or fixing what’s broken. What causes the most pain is the realisation that you can’t have any more fun, and that your mates are going to go on without you (which is of course part of mountain biking etiquette).
Unless you manage to fix your bike that is, or better still someone else does. Then that empty feeling is replaced by jubilation and possibly even more endorphins than before.
Whilst riding Tina (Tinakori Hill, Wellington, NZ) today a very innocuous crash into a tree sheared my back brake right off the handlebars.
I thought it was all over.
That was until two mates, grip ties and necessity all came together. The result? Something that we could all be proud of, and a ride back down the hill.
The moral of the story? When you need to ride, you’ll find a way.
Boys, I salute you!
Grip ties: the modern number 8 wire