Category: Words

…best way to describe the weather really. Cold and wintery last week, then a flurry of change ushers in summers death throws and then today saw constant strong winds driving in a big front off the Atlantic. I reckon the leaves on the trees will start to turn soon. It started raining about 6.30pm and hasn’t stopped since. Still it was warm enough for me to ride to work in shorts and a short sleeved Merino top today and only one silly cow in a Golf tried to get me. She jumped the lights and turned across the junction in front of me and a black minicab tried to follow her but I was halfway across the junction by then being followed by two lanes of traffic. It’s not my problems if you’re impatient… sod off!

Riding the Independent Fabriation Cross Bike is such a better experience in comparison to the Roadrat. I don’t miss that now it’s gone. Even with an SLR saddle on it, the bike just feels more comfortable and alive. It wasn’t a weight thing either, there was only half a pound difference between them, which make me sure it was all down to the tubing and design. The other great thing is that you can sit all day in the office and any time look up and see a bike that you had build to your specs and with a paint job that always makes you smile.

..because if you have to make up a ficticious company as part of a Chartered Institute of Marketing piece of coursework, it might as well have a kick ass name.

The weather has gone bad. It’s the third day riding with a long sleeved jacket, merino base layer and waterproof 3/4s. My normally commuter shoes were so wet from Monday that they still hadn’t dried out two days later so I’m riding in carbon soled racing disco slippers. The bike feels different, more alive, more responsive with the direct power transfer. Maybe I should get some new commuting shoes.

It’s depressing that summer is over, we didn’t seem to get much of one and as soon as it started the hose pipeban kicked in and as Nick pointed out it’s rained everyday since. Bloody United Utilities are to blame for that then. Jinxing the best bit of good weather all year with concerns about how we’d run out of water if it carried on. Eejits.

My pedals have decided to self-destruct too. I took the Eggbeaters off, stripped, cleaned and rebuilt them with grease and now three days later one of the end caps has unscrewed itself, fallen off and they feel just as rough as before. I’ve ordered a rebuild kit, but to be honest I’m wondering if the Shimano XTR pedals are a better option.

Pffft, Pffft, Pffft.

Sounds like the front brake pads rubbing on the rim. No, not the rim. The tyre. Better stop and check it out. Nope, can’t see anything wrong. So I fiddle with the brake cantilevers on the front of the ‘cross bike as I’m riding home trying to stop the noise. Partly because it’s irritating and partly because if it is the brakes rubbing on the sidewall of the tyre it’ll be through and the inner tube will have exploded by the time I get home.

Pffft, Pffft, Pffft.

It’s starting to rain. The weather has been unpredictable for weeks, but it’s 7pm on a Friday and having been working late, I just want to get home and start the weekend. With a beer. Withou getting soaked by Manchester’s unwanted precipitation.

Pffft, Pffft, Pffft.

Right, that’s enough. Stop. Get off the bike spin the front wheel around whilst checking the brake blocks in relation to the tyre. No bulges in the tyre and the rims not out of true. Check it’s seated properly in the drop outs and tighten the quick release up a bit anyway. Set off and fiddle with the brakes again, riding slowly because I’m trying to do all this in traffic.

Pffft, Pffft, Pffft.

Sweet Mary and the infants! What is it? Over a pothole. Hmmm. That’s not a good sign. Should have felt that bump. Look down at the slowly softening front tyre. P U N C T U R E.

Pffft, Pffft, Pffft.

First one whilst commuting in over a year. Click down a couple of gears and try and get some speed on. I want to get home. The rain is getting heavier.

Pffft, Pffft, Pffft.

It’s too late, the pressure in the tyre’s so low it’s starting to squirm, even in a straight line. I get my weight right back over the back wheel trying to unweight the front. It’s a vain effort, but it probably buys me another 50 metres.

Nothing. No Pffft, Pffft, Pffft.

The tyre runs limply on the rim, so expensive German rubber and a deflated inner tube are the only things saving the delicate aluminimum of the rim from the coarse abrasive asphalt. I can ride on and destroy the tyre and damage the rim or I can admit defeat. I bow my head, I hate giving in. The heavens open.

It’s a long, cold and wet walk home ducking from the shelter of one tree to the next. I’ll put my spare tube, pump and tyre levers back in my back tonight then. That’ll teach me to take them out.

More Photos

As you’ll see it used to have discs, but not any more (although the frame still has helicopter tape on it that was in place to protect against cable rub). Now up for sale as I’m riding another bike more these days,

Upgraded with Thomson Elite seatpost, Race Face Cadence cranks and BB, Chris King Headset and DMR chain tensioners. It’s just had new Aztec cartridge brake pads all around, the original saddle refitted (taken off at purchase) and new grips. Everything is running and spinning smoothly, I take care of my bikes having worked for years in a bike shop and as a mechanic.

Singlespeed setup (50x16t) is geared quite high, but has been ideal for commuting in Manchester. As you can see it’s in good condition, a few light scratches and the odd stone chip, but otherwise in near new condition. Weights in at 21.2lb as pictured. Bike not supplied with pedals.

Looking for £550.

Yesterday the whole world seemed to be out to get me. It’s difficult to cite anyone particular thing at work or on the commute that wound me up, but I did manage to relieve much of the tension by blowing the crap out of lots of baddies on the XBOX360 at home. With imagination they looked a bit like the idiot in the grey Civic and other people who had made it into my bad books.

This morning the world still hated me and this was most vididly manifested in the form of the retarded driver of a black Ford Puma who indicated left, then turned right causing me to haul on the anchors and slide the bike speedway style to a stop to avoid getting t-boned. Dick. Head. Driver.

Tonight on the way home a bunch of three scallies were tailing an 18stone heffalump on an ultralight tricked out mountain bike groaning under his weight. I suspect they were eyeing the bike up and wondering of they had the guts to push him off it into the bushes and then ride off into the sunset on his bike. They were all riding on the pavement, which grated with my ‘why aren’t you riding on the road’ mentality.

Then there were the two scally kids walking along, one having recently liberated a front wheel and the other a saddle and seatpost off a bike. That was pretty blatant, but not unusual for inner city Manchester. The thing that really wound me up though was not that I met all the traffic lights on red, but that some roadie swine tailed me most of the way home, hovering just over my right shoulder. I shook him in the end by taking a bumper hugging right turn across the oncoming traffic in the wake of a fast moving Golf GTI. It was the highlight of my day.

This morning I rolled out of home and up the road on the way into work. About 200m along the road from home they’re renovating a house and this morning there was a lorry from a builders merchants stopped outside it, blocking the road whilst it unloaded supplies. Well, that is blocking the road to cars, there was still room for a bike. So as I’m approaching to overtake the truck a silver Toyota Corolla overtakes me at about 30mph then cuts me up by turning right immediately across my path.

At first I thought he was turning into one of the houses which have drives that join the road. Whilst I was processing all this I was rather busy wondering whether the bike, which was now fully locked up on the brakes, was going to hit the wall first or the pesky heap of Japanese crap forcing me off the road. I was saved not my any inherent bike handling prowess, but by the fact that the Toyota driver had absolutely no intention of entering one of the properties.

The reason he didn’t kill me was due to his next genius piece of driving. The swerve right was just so he could mount the pavement and once on it, he then proceeded to gun it one wheel on the footpath and the other one grass verge up the road under the trees and between the wall and the parked delivery truck. All very Duke of Hazzard, complete with little clouds of dust and leaves getting blown out the back. Then once clear it was a swerve around the bollards and back onto the tarmac.

I was soooo hoping that the driver was going to get stopped at the lights so I could pull then out of the car and beat them senseless. Or just make a note of the registration plate. Unfortunately they went the other way and there was no way I could catch them up. After that, the other two loons that tried to take me out on the way to work just paled into insignificance.

Recently biking has been restricted to just commuting too and from work. Last week was a bit of a change, because two days were spent going to look at vans and a third to actually pick one up. This meant biking up to Bury twice and then over to Bolton. I’d never done either route before, but it has to said that there is something to be said by a good climb to get you back in the mood for biking. Rode the Roadrat the first day but then had aching knees afterwards from pushing too high a gear. So for the other two days I switched to the ‘cross bike which is currently running on slicks and as predicted it was a far better option for the hills. It really motors along!

Weeks ago I organised a ride out with some friends and family. Saturday morning came around and as I hooked the bikes down to load the car, Tyrrell’s bike had a flat on the rear. No time to fix it here, so it’s bundled into the car with a track pump and spare tube. It’ll get fixed on arrival at our destination.

We all headed over to Llandegla Forest Park in North Wales for a day of riding and adventure. We assembled around 11am, although Tyrrell didn’t turn up until after 12. Still I set about fixing the flat on his bike while we waited, managing to snap the tyre lever off my Hummer trail tool whilst I’m at it. The potential scowling from the majority that might have resulted from the tardiness of certain members of our group was offset by the quality of the Lemon Drizzle cake and coffee from the cafe at the trail centre.

In the end we headed off onto the trail. Chris and Phil on the burly Kona hire bikes that are available for rental through the shop and Iain on his classic Mongoose IBOC. It’s been years since I’ve seen an early 90’s mountain bike. Times have changed and styles have moved on, but back in the day most, if not all, of us had a low slung cross country bike of similar ilk. Iain wasn’t feeling too great and after seeing his breakfast, last night’s dinner and beer (that had accompanied a dismal England performance in the foot the ball World Cup the night before) again, he bowed out early and followed the Blue to get him back to civilisation quicker.

Everyone made it through all of the tricky fast sections with no major damage. There were a few bails, but no broken bones or bikes. When we stopped for some food just at the top of Badger’s Rise where you come out of the woods having just climbed up from a long black section, Tyrrell, my South Arfican mate, pats one of his jersey pockets and then goes pale. His car keys are missing. Cleverly he’s taken the key fob for his VW off the big set of keys so he’s just been carrying the small black device. In the back of his jersey pocket. Which he then discovers has a key fob sized hole in the corner of it.

We head back up the trail to where about 15 minutes earlier he’d gone over the handlebars to inspect the local flora. No sign. We then scour that entire section of black. No sign of it there either. Tyrrell heads off to let the rest of the group know whats happened while I go and do the Dave the Fox section very slowly scanning for the missing key. It doesn’t help that the key is the same size as pretty much every stone and pinecone on the trail.

I regroup with the others. Tyrrell has phoned his missus who is with the four kids at Chester Zoo. She is not too impressed with the news. He’s then headed off to go round the trail in reverse looking for the key. As two other riders who were taking a break at the same spot helpfully pointed out, it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. Pretty much everyone winces at the prospect of having lost the car keys.

Iain turned up back at the centre to remember that Kathy has his keys, wallet and phone and she’s out walking with Clayre and Isobel. He’s stuck waiting, cold and alone until they get back an hour later. He’s gone by the time the rest of us eventually get back to the visitors centre. No one’s handed any keys in. We have some late lunch. Then a drink. Then some cake. About 4pm I phone Tyrrell and remind him the trail centre closes at 6pm. Unfortunately so does Chester Zoo. And the AA don’t do a return to home service for lost keys. Around 5.15 Tyrrell comes back. He’s scoured the whole route he’s ridden. In some cases more than twice in each section. Still he didn’t find his keys, but he did find me a new tyre lever for my Hummer.

The situation’s explained to the staff at One Planet Adventure. It’s agreed we’ll leave the Touran in the carpark overnight and pick it up tomorrow with the spare keys kept in Manchester. The girls have made it to Chester train station via a taxi by the time Kathy and I drop Tyrrell off. We don’t envy his journey home. We collected his car this morning following a lengthy discussion on the way there most centred around never losing a set of keys again…

Photos from the ride and the walk the girls did are up on Flickr.