I don’t know what’s been up with the weather this week – perhaps the weather gods were testing their circuits – but so far we have had: sleet showers with bright sunshine (Monday), glorious warm sunshine (Tuesday), constant steady soaking drizzle (Wednesday) and gales interspersed with sunshine-and-showers (Thursday). Today, it seemed like it was going to be NAR* all day, so I took the opportunity to get out on the bike to get the paper for the first time all week. As I set off, I thought it would be a good day to just relax and enjoy the ride: the view of the hills, the birds singing, the quiet roads and the wind in my hair. After all, cycling’s the way to travel, isn’t it? Much, much better than being shut up in a tin box behind the wheel…
All was well until I was a mile or so from the shop when it went from greyish clouds to slight drizzle. Well, this is fine too, I thought. It’s not as pleasant as when it’s dry, and the birds have stopped singing, and I can’t really see the hills any more what with my glasses being all fogged up, but at least I’m getting some exercise and saving the planet. And then clang: my chain fell off and the strange new squeaking rattle that the bike had developed when it was in top gear revealed itself to be the sound of something possibly vital** working its way loose.
One mobile phone call later, and a longish walk in the now-quite-heavy-rain and the other half had come down to pick me up and inform me that the part that had fallen off was probably not all that vital after all and I could probably ride back. But by that time I’d had it, and so we threw the bike in the car and drove home. There are some days when the joy of cycling somewhat eludes me. This was one of them
I really, really, really need a new bike.
*Not Actually Raining
** A technical term