Sometimes it just comes down to a staring contest.
I have a love-hate relationship with inanimate objects. I appreciate them for their utility, but I genuinely have no patience for their insubordination. Take, for example, bungee cords. By far the most mischievous object in existence, the only thing you can be sure to hook with them is your pant leg. The second-most misbehaving inanimate object, in case you’re wondering, are those pieces of debris that specialize in sticking to windshield wipers precisely at eye level.
Cycling is the most beautiful sport in the world, and the bicycle itself the most elegant and sophisticated piece of equipment in history. Yet, I have rarely descended into such a fit of rage as by a malfunctioning drive train. On good days, the inconvenience distracts me from what would otherwise be a day of near-perfect grace. On bad days, it drags my morale from the toilet into the septic system.
The descent into madness caused by a mysterious mechanical problem involves several steps. Observe:
The obvious challenge here is the circumvention of Rule #65, so we should not make a habit of this. But sometimes the stubbornness of an insubordinate inanimate object is simply too dumbfounding to offer us any viable alternative.
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@Oli
Same goes for guitars ! Chuckin em and smashin em and all… wtf ?
Golf clubs... now that's different.
Cheers !
@Oli
I'm with you, Oli.
Always makes me think of one of my favorite songs when I see these entitled, temper-tantrumed idiots chucking their bikes.
@Randy C
Ha! Great minds think alike (and post at the same time, too)!!!
I find that sweet talking my machine works much better than anything past step 2. It also helps if I do so in Italian:
Sei una donna deliziosa, ti prego, aiutami a tornare a casa, dove posso darvi una melodia approfondita su.
Long day in the saddle with a good friend. With maybe 4 or 5km to go his shifter breaks with the bike on the 11 tooth. After a lot of anger and swearing he picks the bike up, and gives it the wheel bump of frustration, only to cause the chain to come off. It was almost as if the bike was fighting back.
He also lost his pump that day and I believe sustained grease stains on his kit. I call this the "fuck you" principal. The gods have conspired to just fuck with you that day and nothing you do can change it.
" I call this the “fuck you” principal. The gods have conspired to just fuck with you that day and nothing you do can change it."
Thanks DCR, I don't feel so alone...
One fine day on an what was turning out to be a great ride, my pump fell out of my jersey and got run over by a truck as I was approaching an intersection. Within seconds of this I flatted. I switched gears then dropped my chain (after spending what seemed like hours earlier that day adjusting my front derailleur that I just couldn't get right). Of course, as I came to a stop I couldn't get my cleat out and tipped over with a line of cars honking at me to clear the roadway. To top off these iniquities my new kit was torn during the first wearing.
My bike almost made it successfully through the windshield of the obnoxious horn blower that couldn't ask if I was ok. Almost. I remembered just in time how hard I worked to afford my bicycle before that imagined hurl. Not quite inanimate, but just the same.
The saving grace of these ten minutes of getting mercilessly sodomized by the Gods was the local bike shop a block away. Took my shoes and socks off and walked my bike to get the flat repaired (pump was toast) and maybe a new set of shorts. Maybe the most important thing the owner of the bike shop offered soothing words. His knowing the taste of this particular shit sandwich had me laughing about the whole thing before the front wheel was off my bike. He said it was damn near impossible to keep from laughing out loud when I came in with flat tire, torn shorts, barefooted and screwfaced. He let me come back to pay him when I had more than the fiver in my kit.
"Take, for example, bungee cords. By far the most mischievous object in existence" Well I'll nominate Race Dots to that list too. Their tendency to fuck with you is inversely proportional to the time between their placement and your race. I've gone back to pins (always an odd number, always a lot, always aligned and never likely to bunch up into a giant magnet fuck ball when you're pulling on your jersey).
@Shemsuddin
we should have different badges for Velominati who experience such bad luck.
Velomalheuratus!
As well as threatening the recalcitrant machine with dismemberment, death, or recycling, you could also threaten to turn it into a fixie and give it to a hipster for general transport.
A classic steel bike would find that particularly disturbing.
I found my mtn. bike in in the woods, besides a MUP. I'm guessing it was stolen and ditched. I'll happily return it, if I could find the owner.
I walk my dogs in the woods during the winter. The other morning I noticed that someone tossed a Ping putter beside the walking trail. And a t.v. satellite dish. Hmm.