Well I loaded up the Aero in the back of the van at 6:00am this morning. I was heading out to do a
ride called the OUTLAW Trail 100.
ci.round-rock.tx.usoutlaw trail.htmlOpen ↗
I rolled the upright Aero into the back of the van. To keep the Aero from falling over, I took my
handy dandy Bungee cord and looked for an appropriate place to hook it on the Aero.
And low and behold there was this nice little round ring on the end of the Clevis pin that holds the
rear seat stays upright. Why that little round ring is just the perfect place for the hook on the
end of an 18-inch bungee cord. And the other end of the bungee cord fits real nice on the clothes
hook on the ceiling of my van.
So I'm hooked up and the Aero is riding real nice in the back of the van. Until I take a left turn
at 45 miles an hour and the poor Aero crashes over on its side and lies flat on the floor of the
van! I think, "How in the hell did the bungee cord come lose from the clothes hook on the ceiling?"
And are my Carbon fiber wheels ok? Did I bang up my derailleur? Did I crack my carbon fiber seat?
Did I just dimple the 8 million-dollar Ti frame tube and now it lies destroyed on the van floor?
These and many more paranoid thoughts of destroying a $4000 dollar bicycle without riding it float
through my brain.
But I stop for donuts and coffee and all these thoughts disappear into a great Texas morning sunrise
and the site of about 600 other cyclist lining up to ride. When I see all the cyclist gathered at
the starting line, I get my normal "herding" instinct and I quickly grab the bike out of the van,
spin the front and rear tires and pronounce the Aero, "Good to GO!"
I weasel my way to near the front of the starting 100 miler riders. I'm only doing 65 miles today,
but if I can hook up with the fast 100-mile dogs, they can pull me at least the first 30 or 40
miles. There's nothing better than wheel sucking of really fast people. And God, they hate looking
back to see if that Recumbent Geek is still back there.
At precisely 8:00 O'clock some old Cowboy shoots his revolver and a herd of lycra loonies clip in
and begin the Hammer dance for the next 100 miles.
There's a pack of about 40 riders forming up and I'm at the tail end of it, sucking my lungs in and
out, as we ride at about 25 mph. I'm in the pack and I'm sitting in their sweet, sweet draft. But
this group is full of strong dogs and I'm doing all I can do to hold onto this herd.
About the 5-mile mark, I begin to hear a metal rattle of some kind on my bike. But I can't worry
about it, because I can't lose this pack of testosterone crazies. I can't be spit out the back! I've
got to hang with them! I'm Stud BOY! These guys won't drop me!
At about the 7-mile mark, the metallic rattle is even louder. I begin to think to myself, "What the
Hell did I put in my rear bag today?"
I don't come up with any good answer, but by mile 8, I determine that it must be my Frame Pump
rattling somehow. And the thing sure is loud.
But, stop and look? Never! This pack is not getting away form me! We got to be doing 26 or 27. I'm
dying, but hanging on. Pull over and lose this group!? Never!
At mile 10, about 30 bikers are flying downhill at 35 mph. It's a big, long downhill. Of course the
Aero is now in it's natural element to Destroy the upright riders and I begin to turn the beast
loose! I push the chain up on to the 55-tooth monster ring up front and the 11-tooth ring on back.
As I speed up, the Hed H3 wheels start to go invisible. I'm approaching sonic boom velocity as I fly
past the pack of wild roadies. They are dying on their upright bikes. They are trying to hold onto a
crazed white haired old recumbent geek doing 45 with a big [censored]-eating grin on his face!
But, while I'm smiling at their pain, the metallic death rattle becomes really loud. And then I hear
this, tinkle, tinkle, twang, metal pipe rolling down the street, sound. Not a good sound. And it's
my sound! And the sound fades off into the trailing distance.
And my carbon fiber seat fades backwards on the left side! It feels all mushy and loose.
And as the lower part of my seat stay rolls back down the road…… I hear the pack of Roadies
hollering as their group separates around the recumbent trash lying in the street. Then their draft
pack reforms and they start cursing me and the recumbent thing I ride!
As I pull to the side of the road, the pack of Devil Dogs on Wedgies, claim another recumbent
victim. And they can even snicker worse now, cause those recumbent things just fall apart when you
ride them. I hold my head in shame and don't meet their eyes as they blaze by and onto 100 miles of
Nirvana on this perfect windless 70-degree day.
I guess you need both Seat Stays on the Aero recumbent?
Slowly it dawns on me that when the bike fell over in the van, the bungee cord PULLED the clevis pin
out of the seat stay! Then it took 10 miles of rough Texas road to work the lower screw loose from
the Aero frame!
I feel really stupid as I walk back up the hill and retrieve my left seat stay lying in the middle
of the road. More bikes ride toward me and lots of people ask if I'm ok. Some people on upright
bikes are really nice. That's hard to believe, but it's true.
I just stand there beside the road for a good 5 minutes staring at my Aero with no left seat stay.
And I feel real stupid. Why didn't I pull over at the first metallic sound? Why did I let Roadies
suck me in?
I'm really just shell shocked, standing beside the road, staring down in dumb fascination. Trying
to determine how I'm going to ride this thing home. Thinking I can probably ride this thing at 3
miles an hour in the opposite direction of all these road bikes, back to the start. And each and
every one of them can snicker at the recumbent goob, who's throwing in the towel after only 10
miles of riding!
Then I hear the voice of a friend coming through my cloud of doom thoughts. He's asking me
if I'm ok?
Yea. OK.
I jokingly ask if he has any water bottle bolts that he can lend me and maybe a Band-Aid?
Sure he says.
In disbelief, he pulls 2 water bottle bolts out of his seat pack and they are warped in the
loveliest piece of shinny gray duct tape I've ever seen.
He says he just bought a new water bottle cage and it came with bolts. He didn't need the bolts so
he just wrapped them in duct tape and threw them in his seat bag. God sure works in mysterious ways.
The water bottle bolt seems to fit the hole on the Aero frame perfectly and I crank the sucker in
with 450 pounds of torque force. Then I take half his duct tape and wrap it around the bolt head and
frame so it can't back out if it's the wrong size. We just stick the other bolt in the upper hole of
the seat stay and duct tape around it so it can't back out.
I ride on for the next 55 miles repeatedly thanking my friend for his bolts. And silently thanking
the inventor of Duct tape for his marvelous Aero fixing tool.
The 100 mile Roadies go on to eat up the road, devouring all that get in their way. I rode with good
friends and enjoyed the sunshine.
Don