Brokebike Mountain (biking).....

Well, having started the year with a focus on the road bike, I decided today was the day to drag out my hardtail (mountain bike with front suspension but no rear suspension). I bought my bike from the Edinburgh Bike Co-op place about 9 months ago and so far I seem to have fallen off it every time I've ridden it. I've broken a hand and badly bruised ribs from previous excursions.

So I quickly checked it, pumped the tyres, pedalled it round the garden, packed it in the car and set off to meet my pal Neil for some genteel biking along the Fife coast. Briefly, in the car I remember my last venture out on the mtb and the memory made me slightly judder as last time out I broke the chain. Rather spectacularly just after Christmas and in the depths of the Yorkshire Moors, if I remember correctly. A quick call to speed dial 001 sorted that as Danielle and my brother in law, Jaff, came to the rescue. I picked up another chain and fixed the problem but hadn't really ridden the bike since. Today was the day.....

It was a cracker, about 12 deg and sun shining as we set off from Inverkeithing Station. The clunking from my back cog was slightly un-nerving but I kept thinking, I can fix when we stop next....

The clunking got progressively worse and worse. No choice we had to stop. We both peered at the mechanical horse through a vacuum of shared bike intellect and poked various bits as if the poking would provide the miracle cure. Sadly, it turns out neither of us had the magic touch but it did cure the clunking. The clunking definitely had stopped, only to be replaced by a grinding. If it was a horror movie, the bad guy was about step out from behind the shower curtain, because the bike gave an oil curdling scream and stopped.

My co-biker, Neil, asked if he could have a quick go to aid diagnosis. Like a skilled surgeon with a blunt scalpel he jumped on my bike and pedalled off. The bike screamed and passed out - bits pulled off in many directions and my rear gear changer thingy (now lying at an odd angle) snapped from the frame. Neil rushed off for an ambulance while I nursed the patient back up to the road. Where were we? How would Neil find us? Questions raced through the red mist of my mind.

I wandered up through walkers and bikers pointing and deriding my bike and shame faced we found the local police station. The police station was very helpful, it was shut. Despite this set back, it held the key of an old black and white map which, with a quick call from Neil, led to my ultimate rescue. Although his car was making noises that I could only imagine my clunking bike would have been proud of.

The shop was great. They asked which clown had fitted the chain. I lied and said it was a bike shop, but I know the truth. It was me. I suspect they knew it was me as well. The link that I had used to join the chain when fitting had broken because it was badly fitted causing the chain to catch the derailleur and break it off the frame. He fixed it all for the cost of the parts which was fantastic. He also fixed all of the other dodgy things I done to it in the 9 months of my possession.

So my 2 hour bike trip turned in to 30 minutes with 4 hours to fix the bike!

Back on to the road bike tomorrow with Derek and Stuart. Home ground, safe territory and a bike I haven't touched!