The Problem With Old Bikes

Last time I updated my blog I slipped in the little details that it was warm and, well, that I had biked perhaps 10k to the Internet cafe in the "Stadt" of Altenburg (city). Please, let me share with you the expanded and more comprehensive version. You see, that day I decided to bike to Altenburg , (that town over 10 k away). It's actually more like 13, and thankfully, I had the loan of what appeared to me to be a rather ancient bicycle from the family. That saved walking (which I wouldn't have done), a bus ticket, or not going at all. The bike itself is of a sky blue colour, with curved handlebars and a good sized seat wrapped in an old sock - for additional comfort I suppose. On the right side is a singe hand break as an extra to the pedal breaks. This particular bike also sang. It ground out a tune of age and abuse as the pedals make their way around in a clockwise manner. Somewhere, perhaps behind the privacy of the chaingaurd something scraped and ground about every so often. Also, after some section of road or side walk that was very bumpy (or perhaps going of a curb with a good bang) , the chain guard was knocked loose allowing the chain to strike it with a 'ping ping ping ping' until you landed a good kick on it banging it back free of the chain. (that didn't always work either) So I set off from the village talking a shortcut over a narrow non paved lane lined in some places with trees. Hardly had I gone far when with the usual clanging I no longer had any resistance from the pedals. Frustratedly I reattached the chain to the rear gear smudging my fingertips with black grease. Setting off over the bumpy lane I managed to get about as far as the end of the lane before the devilish chain came off for the second time. Once more, I was able to make things operational again while picking up more grease and I biked into a little village which I found my way out of onto a more of a main road. Scenicly the route is wonderful and pleasing to the eyes, as the road winds and stretches itself through little villages, up and down hills, beside forests, and by farmers fields. Of course a nice paved shoulder would have been nice, as the cars, trucks. and drivers, didn't always make me feel at ease. But Kilometer after Kilometer I cruised through the countryside with no helmet, no extra gears to choose from, and my old bike. It was when I was part of the way there I noticed that the front tire was sitting not in a normal upright position, but rather was slightly slumped to the left side. Perhaps it even wobbled about. Right before the city I climbed a long hill with the bike, exerting myself, and using my arms as levers on the handle bars to help me turn the pedals - probably too much stress for an old bike. After visiting the Internet cafe I set off again with the bike for the market place in Altenburg. It was when I was coming down a hill that the chain came off for the third time, this time I didn't stop, but allowed myself to simply coast down the hill until I ran out of speed. Pushing the bike a bit further, I came to another street which sloped down towards to the market place. Here I decided to sit on my still chain- detached bike and let gravity do the rest. The single hand break on the right handle bar was a kind design feature for the reason that the pedal breaks have no power to stop the bike with the chain off!! As I coasted down this last hill all of a sudden I had a new handling sensation (and perhaps new sounds) which I had priorly not experienced and with a bad feeling I realized I had to stop the bike as it was now very, very sick and not safe!! It turned out to be that the right fork had broken!! Fortunately I was able to impede my speed and come to a halt. Seeing as the bicycle was not no longer in a good state I began to push it; all the while the jagged edge from the metal on the broken fork clacked over the spokes setting of a racket which sounded in the street heralding my arrival. I locked the bike against a fence and later after phoning the family I am staying with on my handy (cellphone) went to take the bike to the yard of a nearby church. As I pushed the bike through the street it set off the awful ruckess again of 'clang clang clack clang' which was very hard NOT to hear . I passed a man on a bench and another walked by me probably wondering what in the world this guy with this loud bike was doing projecting this nasty noise in the marketplace where the shops were closed and most of the people had left. To make matters more amusing, I was having a very difficult time keeping a straight face as I wanted to laugh at the hilarity of the whole situation. Briefly I thought I could use the bike again as I was able to get about one street over on it before something went wrong again and I had to dismount. This time a I dropped the bike with a resounding crash - the man who passed me earlier was several hundred feet further and he looked back to see where the crash had come from! I abandoned the idea of using the bike, if the fork hadn't been completely severed before, dropping it probably didn't help. Leaving the bike behind the church, the next bus left shortly before 9 - more than and hour away and I had to decide whether to take the bus and wait, or to try to do it on foot. What I decided was the later and about 1 hour and 50 min and more than 13 kilometers later I arrived back in the village after traversing the route I had earlier biked. It is with a feeling of confidence that I say, old bikes are not always reliable.