Failures: Mechanical and otherwise

Some people are able to pay the bills by riding a bike; they’re the lucky few and they’re living the dream. The rest of us are living the nightmare. It’s a horrifying existence in which the crushing necessities of work, mortgage payments, family commitments and household chores conspire to rob us of time on our bikes.

You know what I’m talking about. If the universe were operating as it should, we would be sleeping, or at the very least, sitting with our feet up when we’re not training, racing, weighing our food or spending our afternoons in a luxury bus travelling from one European hamlet to the next. Instead, we have to mow the lawn, take out the recycling, drive the children to their Saturday morning carbon-fibre fabrication classes and drop the cat off for its regular shiatsu massage.

But, while the universe conspires against us in so many ways, there are positive aspects to civilian life. We can ride our bikes simply because we enjoy doing it, not because we have to. If we put some careful thought into choosing a profession and apply ourselves with diligence, we will find ourselves able to buy some really nice equipment. For example, a hard-working magazine columnist such as I can, through thrifty living and a diet consisting mostly of boiled potatoes, manage to afford new brake pads every two years. There’s nothing as exciting as knowing you can come to a complete stop reliably should the need arise.

Of course, I have no one but me to blame for my sorry financial state. Twenty-five years ago, when I decided to pursue a career as a freelance punctuation consultant, many of my peers were busy earning undergraduate degrees in science, economics, engineering and all manner of practical endeavours. I’m now surrounded by these people on my weekend rides. They’re all on bikes much nicer than mine.

But, here’s the thing: no one, no matter how technologically advantaged, is immune from the misfortunes that befall the cyclist. When riding a bike, there are many things that can go wrong, and those things don’t discriminate. It rains on the just and the unjust alike, as they say.

Sometimes, just thinking of what might go wrong on a ride can cause it to happen. Several years ago, I was packing for a weekend cycling trip. I knew I would not be near any bike shops, so I carefully checked my equipment list. As I was falling asleep the night before the trip, I thought, “The only thing that would really mess up this trip is if I break one of my pedals.” The next day, 50 km into the ride, my pedal separated from its spindle. Thankfully, one of my riding buddies is a bit of a mad scientist and he somehow got it reassembled sufficiently to make it through the next two days.

This phenomenon has happened more than once. I used to carry a single spare inner tube, until, when leaving the house one day, I thought, “I would be pretty screwed if I got two flats.” You guessed it: unable to repair the second flat, I had a very expensive cab ride home. Now I never leave the house without two tubes.

Leaving aside my unusual psychic powers, many problems are the result of simple equipment failure. When a cyclist experiences trouble with the bike and has to stop, or in the worst case, abandon a ride, this is referred to as a “mechanical.”

“What happened to you? I thought you were right on my wheel. When I looked back, you were nowhere.”

“Oh yeah. Had a mechanical.”

Sometimes a legitimate explanation, the “mechanical” has its greatest value as an excuse. Second only to the fake flat tire, mechanical problems are claimed falsely by riders unable to keep up with the pack. Now, with the introduction of electronic shifting and battery-powered derailleurs, a new variant has been added to the mix:

“What happened to you? You were just about hanging on there and then you got popped out the back!”

“Oh yeah. Had an electrical.”

Unsurprisingly, no one uses the one term that would accurately describe what happened:

“What happened to me? Well, truth be told, I had a biological.”

The proper word may in fact be “biomechanical,” but either way, the meaning is clear: the rider’s bike is working fine and there’s still plenty of air in both tires. The simple fact is that the rider’s body can no longer produce the energy required to propel the system forward.

Worse still is the “psychological.” In this event, the mind can no longer take the discomfort and cuts all power to the legs. It’s instantaneous, decisive and utterly crushing when it happens. Losing the will to continue is the worst type of defeat because it represents a failure of character.

The good news is that unlike the mechanical, the electrical or the flat tire, there’s a simple way to avoid both the biological and the psychological: never, ever ride with anyone stronger than you.