This is practically the first nice weekend we've had all summer. July
set records for rain. So it is a real treat to load the hardtails onto
the Honda and head down to Ellicottville to hit the singletrack at
Holiday Valley. Putting the bikes onto the rack, I mention to my wife
that the eight year old Thule rack on the Honda is looking pretty
ratty: we should really think about retiring it and picking up a Yakima
rack for the new Subaru. Next season.
We hit E-ville around 10:30, unload the gear and roll. The ride begins
as it always does here, with a 1 1/2 mile doubletrack climb to the top
of the hill. All the singletrack is off the back side. I think the fix
has been paying off for all these rainy days: I manage to make the
whole climb in the middle ring for the first time. Cool. We cruise back
on the singletrack and run Big Merlin, always a highlight of this trail
system. A fast, swoopy singletrack traverse with lots of nasty little
rooty sections to keep you on your toes. It's Flow City. I feel great,
and I ride smooth and clean. My wife brings up the rear, but I never
have to wait long for her to catch up. We knock off 11 miles or so,
capped off with a rocking descent back down the doubletrack to the car.
We load up, and then stop ten feet out.
"Did we lock your bike on the rack?" I ask my wife.
"I don't remember."
She gets out, checks to make sure the bike is secure, and we're off.
We stop off at the E-ville Brewing Company for an excellent malty
German Red and some lunch. The bartender makes sad noises about how he
wants to be out on his bike instead of tending bar. Only two and a half
more hours in his shift. We finish our lunch and another couple of
beers, wish him well on his afternoon ride, and hit the road. We stop
at a roadside Wal-Mart to pick up some propane so I can do rosin
potatoes and a rack of ribs on the barbie tonight. We drive off, the
propane tank rattling around in the back of the car. We merge onto U.S.
219 heading north to Buffalo, and I spin the car up to 70 mph.
Suddenly: BANG! *POW*! Oh, [censored].
"What was THAT?" says my wife, as I look in my rearview mirror to see a
black Klein Attitude race tumbling end-over-end down the center of the
freeway.
"We lost a bike. Yours."
I stop on the shoulder and throw the Honda in reverse, roll the hundred
yards back to where the bike is laying in the road, traffic quickly
approaching. I pull it out in time. It's got a bent brake lever and a
big scratch on the downtube, but no serious damage is evident. The
Thule rack is trashed:
<http://www.angelfire.com/ab6/corvuscorvax/failure.jpg>
Later analysis when we get home indicates the failure was operator
error. She forgot to strap down the back wheel, and the bike came off
the tray and snapped the fork mount. Whups. My poor wife is sitting
around looking Really Glum. I say we were damn lucky. We'll take it to
the LBS and make sure the frame wasn't bent, but it looks like the bike
survived pretty well.
One good reason to have everybody secure their own steed on the rack:
nobody to blame but yourself if it gets [censored] up.
CC