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When I am here in Heber City, my road bike is my transportation. To training at Soldier Hollow. To running intervals up Guardman Pass. To hiking in Big Hollow. To swim in Deer Creek Reservoir. It’s how I get around. Once in a while, when I am feeling lazy or too tired to crank on the bike, I’ll borrow a car.
After a hard day of training, I was out riding my bike again just for fun, well for recovery, but that’s fun, earlier this afternoon. I was going up a medium-size hill in Snake Creek Canyon when my rear cassette started making noises. I shifted gears, and it went away. But then it started again with that gear. So I shifted again. This time, just barely moving uphill at this point, I heard this awful noise. A split second later, my chain no longer moved forward and I started falling over. Quick! Unclip the clip-ins!
It turns out that the rear derailleur sheared off the frame completely. As if someone took a nice diamond-edged chainsaw to it. Snap. I was only going uphill! How could this happen? I found out later that a mechanic at a bike shop in Richmond, Vermont, whom I paid too much money for a tune-up, must have fiddled around with the settings of the derailleur. It allowed me to shift past its normal limits until it grabbed onto the spokes, thereby being torn off the frame.
Because the derailleur was now married to the spoke that had swept it from the frame, I couldn’t even ride the bike downhill to Midway. I had to call in for back up.
Then, I picked up my frame and was stung by a wasp on my hand.
The bike shop in Park City says that my bike won’t be ready for a week.
Now, I’ll be turning heads as I use rollerskis for transportation. To Soldier Hollow for training. To running intervals up Guardman Pass. To hiking in Big Hollow. To swim in Deer Creek Reservoir. Maybe down Main Street to get my haircut. “No, there’s no need to put gel in, thank you, I’m going to be putting on a helmet anyway and rollerskiing home.”
Peace,
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