On a recent daily commute, a lovely motorist decided to overtake me on an rural road leaving with me to ride on the crappy part of Tarmac - unfortunate but not unusual- especially at night.
However due to the local councils highly successful road maintainence scheme, this particular section of black top was was littered with craters comparable with the Grand Canyon - which I duly cycled into.
Cue massive Bang!
In skill similar to that of lance when he did that cross country thing in the tdf, I managed to stay up and coasted into the car park of the local garden centre to check for the inevitable double puncture/shattered forks and resultant long walk home.
Relief! Nothing was broken (apart from a slightly bruised perineum) so continued my journey feeling heavily relieved. A few miles later however, after stopping at the traffic lights in town, I heard a squeak - immediately thinking the worst, I pictured the rear derailleur hanging on the floor, however due to the fact I was still peddling this was clearly not the case.
Bizarrely, the squeak seemed intermittent and not linked to any pedal strokes, so I assumed its something to do with the wheels-perhaps a broken spoke?.
Instead of stopping and checking, i thought I would slow down and coast home. Weirdly the squeak got louder the more I slowed, until eventually at barely walking pace, an older chap on a rusty old mountain bike with tesco shopping bags hanging on the handlebars creaked his way past me!!!
Panic over, and with a little laugh to myself I picked up the pace and re-overtook the chap, leaving him to contently cycle his dinner home. I can only assume he joined me when I was stopped at the traffic lights outside tesco. Phew!
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