Prepared for *most* Emergencies

Knowing how to maintain your bicycle and being prepared for common roadside repairs is the source of pride for many cyclists. This article is not an example of that.

Finding you don't have the right tool, and then calmly mapping out a well-reasoned plan of attack is the hallmark of a disciplined mind. This article is not an example of that either.

I think if I hadn't found so much grits (yes, the southern ones made from corn) inside my pannier, this article could have served as some small, positive example of exemplary behavior, but then again, it might not have been written at all.

It started yesterday when I noticed my left cleat was a little loose at the end of the ride, but I thought it might have just been the rain I came through. I also paid no heed to the fact that a fellow rider had just adjusted probably the same screw earlier that same day.

So, I get to the bike rack at the office this morning and my left foot doesn't clip out of the pedal. I turned my foot as far as it would go and could feel the cleat turning. One of the screws had fallen completely out.

I untie my shoe so I can get off the bike, and then standing in one sock, one shoe, I start to investigate how to get the shoe off the bike. To hold the bike still, I pull out my lock. The key is missing. I can't leave my bike without it being locked. The most important phone call of the week is happening in 17 minutes. There *might* be enough time to get back to my house and in front of the computer, but I'm first on the agenda. Certainly I can find the key. It's probably in the bottom of one of the panniers.

I knew I was going to regret not cleaning out the panniers. I like carrying extra plastic grocery bags, but did I need eleventy hundred of them? After hiding a large portion of my immediate surroundings under the contents of my panniers, I finally get to the bottom and find the grits. There's enough to make breakfast for everyone on this phone call and the key is probably underneath all the grits. Should I try walking into the office with my bike? Not with one sock and one shoe. 12 minutes. I start digging out the grits. I'm not exactly "throwing" them, but they do become widely distributed.

The grits must have come from my trip to the grocery store on Saturday. I wonder if the key poked a hole in the grits and now the key is inside the bag of grits in the pantry? Should I call the house?

Cyclists are a tight-knit group. When we find one of our comrades stopped alongside the road, we're quick to offer help. If I had come across a cyclist however, with one sock, a shoe still dangling from the pedal, and the grits/plastic bag explosion, I might have kept on going.

I start shaking all the bags in a reserved -- and I thought rather dignified -- sort of frantic. Oh look, I forgot to pack a lunch today on top of all this! 9 minutes.

Finally, the key falls out and lands on the ground. I move with focused purpose now and a sense of calm takes control. I lock the bike in place. I twist the shoe beyond what I think it would reasonably require and it comes off the pedal. The screw was trapped between the shoe and the pedal so I recovered this and the bags, if not the grits.

It's nice being able to walk into the office with both shoes on. We should take the time each and every morning to express our appreciation for a shoe on each foot.

The trip home is where I found I didn't have the 4mm wrench to repair the cleat, but at least I had a dock-sider on each foot for the trip back home.

Commute Summary

Round Trip Distance: less than I wanted.
Number of Cyclists seen: I forgot.
In-bound Route: Normal
Out-bound Route: Abbreviated
Weather: The grits had absorbed a good bit of the humidity, but weren't quite done.