The End of the Revolution

Losing your trusty bicycle can be a traumatic experience.

The actual loss can take many forms.

Take the situation where you are taking a fast descent on a loose mountain track, precipitous drop to one side, sheer overhanging cliff face above.

There is a trust and understanding between man and machine borne out of many hours in each other's company. If there were a way to quantify a mutual understanding between organic muscle and butted aluminium tubing then it would surely show an acceptance of each others capabilities and limitations.

One without the other cannot manage.

There will be situations where the automatic and miniscule flex of inanimate metal will be enough to counter a miscalculation of the human mind and rectify, in a split second, that possibility of a spill or mishap.

Similarly, the human eye can detect a fast approaching obstacle on the rough potholed sheep hewn channel and make an accurate adjustment to the path of the bike tyres so as to avoid calamity.

There may be an instance of both human error and mechanical defect and the consequence can be the parting of company and the loss of the bike into the abyss.

The demands on body and mind in pursuit of cycling can be exhausting particularly if you are an individual always striving for a faster speed, a shorter time for a regular route or a longer time in the saddle.

On a flat calm day with no resistance from road, wind or weather there can be an all pervading sensation of invincibility, immortality and super-human strength as the bike is propelled seemingly effortlessly. The impression of travelling at high velocity is remarkable even as you are passed and easily left behind by motor vehicles using the same carriageway.

On a stinker of a day the feeling of being held in suspension by wind and driving rain with no forward motion for the energy expended is demoralising and self defeating.

On such days you can lose interest in your bike. There is a mutual falling out and it will take some time and a return of perfect conditions to restore the relationship.

For all the supposed strength and suppleness of a bike frame it does remain with a finite life.

It can be lost to the dire failure of a main structural component.

The shock and awe of constant vibration and concussion over rough terrain will take its toll in loosening the atomic bonds between the constituents of metallic compounds. A fork can fracture and collapse. The main down tube can split open like a pod of peas. The axle can shear off under the transfer of weight from the rider jockeying for position either standing erect on the pedals to coax out reserves of power or crouched low to shelter from the buffeting effect of wind and turbulence.

The links in the chain may work apart and redistribute energy into a whiplash loss of contact and drive.

All of these things are an integral part of cycling.

The worst kind of loss however is when someone, under cover of darkness, forces open the garage doors and disappears into the night with the trusty bike oblivious to what the scratched, muddy, puncture prone and creaking cranked machine is really capable of.