Everything Old is New Again

In the first six months of 2022, I only missed publishing a blog post once. The reason was beyond my control: the derecho that cut through Ottawa and knocked out power was to blame for that missed post.

In the first full week of July, I missed two blog posts in a row. The first, because I was sick and didn't have the energy, much less the brain power, to write something meaningful; the next day, I just didn't have anything to say.

I have more to say now.

Coming off of a nasty throat infection that lasted almost a week, I feel somewhat renewed. I went for more than three days without eating solid food, relying on fruit smoothies and protein shakes, and my body felt a bit of a toxic purge. No junk food, no fats, and no booze.

A bit of a clean slate.

Needless to say that while I was sick, I didn't feel like riding my bicycle. On Canada Day, I had started a new virtual challenge through the Appalachian Trail, starting in Georgia, just north of Atlanta. The 3,167.6-kilometre trail should take me about 126 days, if not sooner, but I'm scheduled to be done by November 3.

With my throat infection starting that evening, after DW and I took a 6.4K walk along the Rideau Canal, I hadn't felt like getting on my bike for any sort of distance, let alone walking around the house. But it was just as well because I had sent my bike into the shop for repair on a worn-out crank arm. Monday would have been the earliest that I would have been able to ride it, anyway.

On Thursday, I was starting to feel better. It was the first day that I had been able to eat solid food and I had more energy. So after work, I hopped on my bike to test out the fixed crank.

It hadn't been fixed.

As far as I got (36.4 kms).

About 25 kms into the ride, the arm felt loose again and I was able to remove it without difficulty. I was exactly in the same place I had been in when this first happened to my bike. I was able to tighten it up a bit but knew that the ride home would be difficult, and I prepared to call for help.

When I reached the village of Enniskerry, the entire crankshaft was coming loose, so I called DW to come and rescue me. I told her that I would try to make it a few more kilometres, to the Swan on the Rideau, a restaurant and marina at River Road and Roger Stevens Drive, and would meet her there.

While I awaited DW in the Swan's parking lot, I called the bike shop to notify them of what had happened and that I was now waiting in the middle of nowhere to be rescued. I would then be bringing my bike directly to them to be fixed. The right way, this time.

To the people in the store's credit, they were very apologetic. When a mechanic removed the arm from my bike and inspected it, he yelled to the back, "Who did the repair work to the Cannondale on the weekend?" There were some murmurs and then the mechanic excused himself while he took the arm to the back.

Words were exchanged in low tones.

When the mechanic came back, he showed me my crank arm. "I'm so sorry," he said, showing me inside the arm where it attaches to the crank mechanism. "See how it's worn down on this side? It should have never gone back onto your bike. This should have been caught. You need a new crank arm."

Because of the age of my bike, it was difficult to track down a replacement. The store was about to close but the mechanic said he'd look into finding one. He also gave me the details of the arm, in case I wanted to do some searching on my own.

"Worst-case," he said, "we'd have to replace the whole mechanism but at least we have all of those parts in stock." He told me that for my trouble, he'd cut me a deal on the cost of the parts. I left my bike with him and he assured me that he'd call me the next morning.

And then Roger's crashed.

The mechanic wasn't able to access the Internet on Friday, but I had looked on Thursday night and was confused by the wide variance in prices, let alone who to trust when it came to ordering. The mechanic gave me a ballpark figure of what the new arm should cost, as well as the prices for ordering the complete mechanism. Again, he said that he had no assurances to the availability or wait time on his end.

"You know," I said, "my bike is 11 years old. It's been reliable and has cost me next to nothing in terms of parts." Indeed, apart from tubes, tires, one wheel, some spokes, and a chain, I've only paid for regular maintenance every couple of years. It was a good, reliable, well-built bike. "Go ahead and replace the whole mechanism."

He charged me just over half of what he originally quoted me.

When I picked up the bike, yesterday afternoon, it looked brand-new. Yes, they had thoroughly cleaned the bike when I had taken it in, the week before, but there was something different with it this time. Some of the deep scratches on the frame seemed polished up and were hardly noticeable. But it was the new crank that stood out.

The old one was stainless steel: this one was black with a low sheen. It seemed to blend more with the black-and-white frame. Even the person who helped me (a different mechanic) looked at my bike with admiration. "That's a great bike you have there," he said as he wheeled it over to me.

Test ride (28.24 kms).

To make sure the bike was working as good as new, I came dressed in my cycling clothes. I had an ice-cold bottle of lemonade, my tool pack, and lights. DW dropped me off at the shop and I cycled home, taking a circuitous route to ensure that I could get more than 25K without any issues.

It rode like a dream. It felt like it was new.

I've pretty much recovered from my throat infection and my bike is running like new. I'm looking forward to catching up in my virtual Appalachian Trail challenge, to catching the pace marker and leaving it behind in the virtual dust.