I don't mountain bike. I own a mountain bike, two if you count the Proflex, but they're primarily intended for winter commuting, when the road surface is iffy. Mountain biking is like cross country skiing, it requires a certain level of skill. Since I can barely keep from falling off my road bike, I know that serious mountain biking would be a recipe for disaster.
Recently, I was reminded of why I don't mountain bike. There was a ride at Great Brook Farm sponsored by NEMBA, which involved a post ride barbeque. What really got my attention was the Harpoon Ale was going to supply free beer. The rides were allegedly for all levels, ranging from 10 to 30 miles, and Great Brook is really close to where I live. So, I reasoned, all we need do is amble over there, make some sort of pretext of riding a mountain bike, and then make a beeline to the party to consume massive quantities of beer.
The last time I'd ridden the mountain bike was last winter, so I had a fair amount of work just to make it rideable. First, had to get rid of the big studded front tire. Fortunately I had a spare wheel, so I just swapped it. To my surprise, the shifters still shifted, and the brakes still broke, although the rear one had a tendency to go on and stay on. The chain was somewhat rusty, but not frozen in place, so I was ready.
We got over there at the appointed hour, and there was a huge crowd. Various groups were forming, but they all seemed too heavy duty for my taste. Fortunately, we ran into David and Elizabeth who we knew from CRW, and David kindly offered to take us on a ride for the inept. I seem to have forgotten that mountain biking involves rocks and logs, not to mention dirt, whereas the roughest terrain I been on lately were the streets of Cambridge. So we bounded along for a while, with minor FDGB's along the way. Then I managed to snag a largish twig in the rear. I figured I'd just keep going, and grind it to bits. Unfortunately. the rear derailer got involved in the grinding, and proceeded to snap off. This made for tough going.
Since we were only a couple of miles away from the start, we headed back, and David lent me a chain tool, whereupon I proceeded to turn the bike into a single speed by judiciously removing links. This got me going again. Unfortunately, I had wanted to end up with a granny gear/big cog combination, but it managed to slip onto the middle ring into a gear that fit the remaining chain very well, such that it was impossible to get it back on the granny.
Ok, so I have to walk every hill, this is still a lot better than pushing with my foot, which I had to do before the chainectomy. This was working adequately, when another noised started. After a while, I realized that the rear tire was rubbing against the left stay. Since this was a very old, very cheap bike, it didn't have a quick release, and not having a 15mm wrench handy, there was no way to fix it. I managed to part it for a while from the stay by judiciously applied kicks, but after a while this wasn't working either. I told Susan to go ahead, just wait for me at the turns. Her definition of turn seemed to be somewhat different from mine, so when I got to a T, there was no Susan.
By this time pushing the bike with the rear wheel dragging was getting old, so I decided to try a cyclocross move and carry it. This didn't last too long, since in addition to being very old and very cheap, it was also very heavy. So then we got into lifting the rear wheel and pushing the front, wheelbarrow style. It would have been an extremely long walk, had it not been for another rider who came along with an adjustable wrench. He reseated the wheel squarely in the middle of the dropouts and I was mobile again.
I rode back to the car, found Susan, and then we were ready for the real raison d'etre of this fiasco, the free beer. We showed up at the party, and much to my horror, the beer had not yet arrived. Susan, who wasn't planning on imbibing, by now had had enough fun, and since we didn't have any lights on the bike, I contented myself with wolfing down a couple of hot dogs, and riding back to the car.
So I ended up with a broken bike, a battered body, and no beer. This was enough of a sign that mountain biking is just not for me.
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