My Worst Crash Yet---and Its Lasting Influence

I crashed out big this time---serious injuries and bike damage. It was the Casey Crit on the last lap in the second to last turn, about 150 yards from the line. It's been about 10 weeks now. I cannot believe how its influence is still so profound. But its been a long Spring and mostly brimmed with the beauty of cycling, the sport, and not the down side.

My feet were spinning over round pedals. The cranks turned the sprocket over and over, the chain wrapping it, clinging to it and the round cog-loaded cassette hooked to the rear hub. This hub drove the rear wheel forward, spokes hushing round and round pushing the front wheel along over the loop of road---one of our local, regular rides. Meanwhile the earth spins, the sport I adore spins me through cycles of sights, sounds, and sites all sticking to who I am and still what I become. Here I have time to reflect on recent road forays.

I retreated to the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia last week. Just my road bike and me. Dear friends had loaned me their beautiful small home as base camp. I rode north from Wintergreen on the parkway to Afton Mountain and back. Then from Wintergreen south to Irish Gap and back. The third day I met my good friend, Robert, at Front Royal to ride up onto Skyline Drive at the north end of the Blue Ridge Parkway.

I have to say I had amazing good bad luck here. I pulled my bike out to ride and found the rear tire flat. We fixed it. I mounted the bike, turned pedals and the chain broke. Yeah, at least we weren't up the mountain. We re-loaded the bikes and returned to the motel to computer-search for a bike shop. Robert found one with an impressive website. Being a computer (and bike) phenom, at least to me, I listened when he said, "this shop must be decent because they took the time to build a great website." It was in Winchester, Va. some 30 minutes away. Black Bar Bicycles is the name. We set out.

Jamie, one of the shop wrenches/owners welcomed us and went right to work on my bike, a Trek 5000, now over four years old. He suggested a Sram power link to join the chain back together. We talked about my bent derailleur hanger as being a possible culprit. It was bent in the Casey Crit crash and no one (understandably) wants to try to bend it back in place for one critical reason: it is permanently attached to the carbon frame, it is aluminum, and if it breaks while re-bending it---a fair prospect---my frame is f'ed.

The chain now repaired and having enjoyed Jamie's reparte and shop wisdom, we returned to Front Royal. It was getting late, around 6'ish. But Robert suggested we give the mountain another run albeit maybe for only an hour's effort---just to see how far we could go before failing light would scoot us home.

The climb up was about 5 to 8 per cent gradient over 8+ miles. It was wonderful with overlooks giving way to staggering glimpses of farms far below. As one rider confessed to me, "I would come here from anywhere in the world to ride. This parkway is a world-class ride."

We dropped about 2 miles down the backside of the mountain we had just climbed, turned around, climbed back up to the top and at the peak my chain broke again and unraveled right on the road under my bike. It broke in a different place this time.

I pondered the predicament but also my continuing great bad luck. We were virtually on top of the mountain now. I packed the broken chain into my infamous "too large" seatpack (sorry Mark), leg-paddled the bike up to speed and we began our descent. We reached a slight rise (easy for me to say, right Robert?) and as my bike began to slow, Robert put an outstretched hand on my back and pedaled for us both for far too long until we reached the top of the final drop.

We were steady at 39-42 mph for the 7 or 8 miles all the way down---him leading me, me passing him, and him taking back the point, trading leads to the bottom. We felt like 11 year-olds flying down the mountain sure we could reach any speed we had the courage to touch.

Next morning Robert left early for Newport News. I left for Black Bar Bicycles. As I came through the door, a new face greeted me, Jamie standing in the background repair area.

Bill Baker is a 56 year-old wrench/owner of the shop like Jamie. It was he who had built their website, and it was he who took final control of all my mechanical miseries.

I was beginning to get nervous about some of my bike parts, especially drive train and tires, which get huge amounts of wear each race season and should be replaced regularly. I was on a challenging 6-day mountain road training trip and the worn out crap on my bike posed too much danger for my liking. These elements become amplified to the extreme when plummeting down a two-lane blacktop between 40 and 50 miles per hour. In other words---you better have good shit on your bike.

I pointed to the broken chain, the bent derailleur hanger, and worn tires while Bill quietly inspected it all. He removed my rear derailleur, examined it and re-mounted it. He pulled out an alignment tool which gauged hub/derailleur alignment to the rear rim. I harped on about how the derailleur hanger was permanently attached to the carbon frame and blah, blah, blah...as he grabbed it and began bending it. Then the channel locks came out, were clamped onto the hanger and bent it...the alignment tool again, then the channel locks from the other way. I'm pacing behind him. Bill stepped back and eyed up his work. Years of experience and pure moxie are hard to beat. I peeked. The derailleur hanger was nearly as aligned as new.

Now as Bill lubed my Speedplay pedals, the real shop mischief began. He and Jamie offered me any bike in the shop for a test ride. I looked at the Pinarello and then the Parlees, then the Pinarello, and then the Parlees. I told Bill he had his hands full with my bike and I didn't want him to have to go through adjusting the saddle/seatpost height for me or transferring my pedals to another bike. He insisted it was no trouble, "why don't you try the Parlee Z3, if you came home with it, it would surely get you a divorce." The two of them chuckled. I work with carpenters and I got it, I mean the tone that is. (As set up with Sram Red gruppos and American, hand-laid full carbon, lugged frame and fork it rounds out about $8 grand.)

So he rigged me up. I got on my helmet and shoes and off I went. The last thing I heard as I went out the door was, "Don't worry about the bike. Enjoy the ride!"

I rode a total of about 6 miles. The ride was stunning in every aspect. Superb responsiveness. Torsional stability hard to comprehend...so fine. The power transfer to the road was unmatched by any bike I've ever ridden.

I walked back through the shop door and proclaimed Bill and Jamie both assholes for doing what they had just done to me, knowing full well I was headed for the Page Valley Road Race course for a training ride that evening and would have to ride my same old bike. How cruel and calculating they were I said as I watched them both shaking in silent laughter backs turned to me.

I settled up, still grumbling, and left to eat and then to Page Valley for some hard work alone. (Glad I could entertain you two.) I have to say, the guys at Black Bar Bicycles really were so kind to a stranger roadie that day. They even offered me the Parlee for my Page Valley ride.

The work and advice was outstanding. The inventory in the shop supremely tuned in to what's really needed and is available from the top names in the industry. They have my highest recommendation for great service, genuine friendliness---and of course, I was glad I could keep them entertained. Hope to see you two again out there.

As my Hawaiian friends would say, "We talk story later bra', okay?" Glad to be back.