Well, it happened again. I broke my frame. That's makes two in the last few months. Granted, these weren't high end carbon frames, or some similarly expensive technology, just beater road frames. However, the lack of value the frames held didn't help offset the loss.
The former of these two fatalities, suffered its "coup de grace" upon impacting the front end of a Manhattan taxi cab. It happened one afternoon, while I was pushing the "red light window". I arrived at the intersection a bit too late, and got caught. The driver's side nose, of the front bumper, struck me just behind the right leg, slightly in front of the derailleur. There was a minor hold up while I picked myself up, and remounted my bike. The cabbie and I exchanged our usual scripts of accusatory expletives, and we were both on our way. No big deal, I thought.
What I didn't notice that day, were the two hair line cracks on my chainstays the cabbie left me with. I didn't become aware of them until about a week later, as I was riding the cobbles across Varick St. At first, I noticed a "bounce" to my bike, like an unfamiliar softness. Eventually, I began to sink, and my frame grew longer beneath me. I knew something was amiss.
Apparently, t
he tension of my chain acted as a fulcrum, that eventually pulled the chain stays apart.
The above photo was taken shortly after my bike entered "that great criterium in the sky".
The latter frame met its end in much the same way. However, this time, the death was more prolonged.
One day, while cruising down the top end of 7th avenue, I was somewhere in the mid 50's, about to time it through an intersection. Imagine a real life game of Frogger.
No one was going exceptionally fast, as the spirit and pleasantness of the day discouraged it. I was about to slip between two cabs, when all of a sudden, the one projected to be on my left side, slammed on his brakes, and I ran into the last 3 inches of his rear bumper. I went flying over the trunk, while my bike stayed put. I actually got up in time to see it fall over. I picked my bike up and gave it a once-over. Upon inspection there were no visible breaks or deep crimps. However, the impact of the crash had ever so slightly bent the head tube. The damage appeared minimal. Moreover, being a steel frame, I assumed it was fine and continued on, unaware of the cancer that now grew within my bike.
So, months later, today in fact, after tons of miles, working and commuting, the malignant tumor that was growing within, surfaced. This happened in the lamest of places, too. I had just clamped my ride down to a communal bike stand, in front of a bunch of bike nerds, with the intention of showing it off. There it was. The death rattle was heard by all. I was so embarrassed. I played it off as best I could, but I was horrified. How could I have not noticed this? It never made a sound until that day. But sure enough, it was curtains.
My frame near decapitation:
If you can't see it, its the obvious tear that runs along the top of the lug and across the body of the head tube. Over hundreds of miles, the slight imperfection in the head tube eventually developed into a serious weakness. One day, the stress became two much, and the frame was severed.
Currently, my bike is still in the "wake" stage of bike death.
Well, I guess these things just happen. If you ride a bike long enough, you come realize that it has a lifespan, and chances are, you will outride it. Whether or not you personified your bike in any way, at one time or another, it was a trusted friend that you depended on. Whether it was to make it to class or work on time, or just blow off some steam, it was there for you. Bikes have memories attached to them. Eventually, they carry sentimental value. To lose one, is enough to ruin your day. Especially when you have to take that bus ride of shame.
However, there is a secret guilty pleasure in losing a bike. You get to replace it.
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