Daft cycling related stories

StanwaySteve62

Well last year I took my bike by car for an event and forgot I had swapped pedals the night before, trouble was I did not put the pedals back on the bike I took.
Well earlier I put a new bottle cage on my new bike and could not believe how tight a fit it was for the bottle
Was all ready to send back and buy what I normally used and then noticed I had the cage upside down :roll:
What is your dumb moment?

nakita222

I decide to go with the fast group on a clubrun. I felt rough anyway, but I thought I might as well do it. When we are halfway round, they decided to extend the route. At this point i'm felling rough, but ok, a bit of a strugle. Anyways we go on, zooming along this lovely decent, rolling hill and averagin a nice pace, we take a left turn. The road is a steady uphill, we round a bend, and bang, there it is a hidden beast, I thought I'd grab it by the horns and give it some, off I went. A group of about five stronger riders went off. I got out of the saddle and gave it some to get on the back and keep up. this hill kept on going for about a mile at the same unrelentless gradient. Every turn of the pedals was sapping up my reserves. I was slowly(well truthully quickly)falling back out of the group. We got to the top regrouped and set off. I sat at the back. There were two guys behind me who were also struglling. One by one they were dropped. It was my turn next. A little incline came up ahead, I was being dropped. I dug deep and gave it some to keep up. I got bacl on the wheel infront. Then BANNNNNNNG!! The Bonk.

I was dropped, I kept on riding hoping they would stop at some point at wait, but no. I don't know if this was a bonk innduced hallucination, but I thought I saw them take a left about a mile ahead, throught the hedges. I took this left, I coldn't see where i was. SO i turned on my GPS, and set coordinates for home. It was downhill. At the bottom of this road was a main road. I was zooming along this road feeling good. I knew I was safe now. TAKE THE NEXT LEFT. Oh shoot it's the flipping M25. I forgot to untick Motorways on the gps. I untick that on my gps, it tells me to turn around, I do so. Bang. No wonder I was flying beforehand. I had a galeforce tailwind. I hack along. I'm going back exactly where I came from. Everyhill hurts. I even have to get off and walk up some, walking up them hurt. I'm in my small ring on the flat. I keep on going. I have to get home. I see signs for an area not far from where I live, I follow them. i keep going. When I get lost. I ask people for directions. My Garmin has cut out. I follow signs until I know where I am. I workout where I am and feel so happy. I've done it. I've made it home. I ride home, I seem to have gained strength from the fact. I'm not lost. I can now ride in my big chainring.

Anyhow. what was meant to be a 40mile ride at around 16mph, which considering this was winter isn't bad, now it's summer it would be around 18mph, turned out to be 84 mile at 10.2mph. All one energy bar, and one bottle of water

Warwickshire Whizzer

Was replacing my chain and sizing it up, using big ring, big cog + 2 links method. Linked it without going through the rear derailleur.

:oops:

rick_chasey

had a similar one to Nakita - went out on what I thought would be a 2 hr ride into the peaks.

Ended up being a 5 and a half hour ride with Cat 2 racer riders.

I remember calling my girlfriend up in a daze whilst still on the bike.

She was so concerned she's made pasta with half a kilo of pasta when I turned up....

jc4lab

...Did the Cote Dazur la couple of years ago..Passing through Cannes durinmg the Film fest..Locked my bike to a crowd barrier next to the red carpet in the afternoon as there was no one around..Came back .finding it surrounded by papperazzi..and security who let me over to it.. ...then the Clint Brad Anglina Jolie & cast of the Changling arrived.....

Pross

Two that I still enjoy (mainly as I wasn't the victim ).

On my second week with the cycling club we did a tour from South Wales to Shrewsbury, stayed overnight and rode back the next day. The ride up was great and even as a newbie riding in trainers I managed fine. The Sunday however was a different matter, it was sleeting and blowing a gale in our faces all the way to such an extreme that other than 4 top flight (and foolish) riders we called it a day at Leominster which was about half way and arranged lifts back. My mate put his bike on the roof rack of someone elses car and fastened it on, a mile or so down the road there was a big bang and two fork sized dents in the car roof. His hands had been so frozen he had failed to tighten the wing nuts enough.

My favourite though was at a mid week evening handicap race. About half a dozen of us travelled down in the local bike shop's van and one of the lads who rode for the other club in our town went up on the roof to hand all the bikes down. Having done this he jumped down off the roof. Unfortunately for him he was wearing a skin suit which caught on the roof rack leaving him dangling by the collar and giving himself a major wedgy. Once we all recovered from laughing one of us had to hold his feet whilst someone else unhooked him and he ended up racing with his skinsuit safety pinned together as the zip broke under the strain.

Blacktemplar

A couple of "third party" tales that made me smile, plus one more disturbing effort of my own...

My brother-in-law put his bike on the roof bars, then drove out of the ferry terminal car park. Straight into the overhead bar that limits vehicle height. Cue one bent frame, wrecked bike rack and dented motor.

On a similar vein, my boss had his son's mtb on the roof, when the tube support broke, and the bike keeled over sideways, held only by the wheel straps. Cue broken side window as the handlebars made an unexpected attempt at getting into the car. All at speed on the A9.

My own experience was a hoot. Riding home from work last September, I had an 'off' on wet leaves and broke my shoulder. An older chap saw what happened, and kindly phoned for the ambulance and waited with me until it arrived. As the paramedics led me to the ambulance, they asked what I would do with my bike. I had no lock with me, so the chap who had who had phoned for the ambulance offered to look after it. Very kind, and what option did I have? We exchanged numbers, and he said he would keep it until I was able to come and get it.

Anyhoo, after a few attempts I got hold of him, and true to his word he'd ridden the bike home. "It's a very nice bike" he told me over the phone "my wife looked it up on the internet, and it's really quite an expensive bike, isn't it" here we go, I thought, now for the ransom note - my family had been winding me up mercilessly about it appearing on FleaBay. So I said nothing, and just arranged to go over the next day to collect.

With my arm in a sling, I needed a lift, so press-ganged my 6'5" brother-in-law (he of the bent bike) into coming with me. As we rolled up at the Council Association detention block for Immigrants and Strange Folks in Scotstoun, I was feeling distinctly nervous. Up to the 5th floor in a lift that reeked of piss and beer, and there was the chap who had rescued my bike. "Come in, come in" he welcomed as we entered a somewhat chintzy flat, "this is my wife Veronica"

I'm sure we both looked like beached fish at that point. "Veronica" was clearly another bloke, but dressed in a flowery dress, and wearing a wig, makeup and false boobs. Her voice wavered from camp imitation woman to manly baritone in a single sentence. The final straw was the size 10 hairy feet in flipflops, and painted toenails.

We were offered tea, but politely declined, backs to the wall. I handed over a nice bottle of malt and a thank you card, which was well received, then we bid farewell and hustled my bike out into the lift, being careful not to touch the saddle. We managed to contain it for about 3 nanoseconds after the lift door closed - I'm sure they must have heard the gales of laughter all the way down the lift shaft. After we got the bike into the back of the car, it took a full ten minutes before my brother-in-law was capable of driving. I have never laughed so much in all my life. I swear wee escaped.... every so often on the way home we'd look at each other and start howling with laughter. It's a miracle we got home in one piece.

markyboy2005

Blacktemplar wrote:

A couple of "third party" tales that made me smile, plus one more disturbing effort of my own...

My brother-in-law put his bike on the roof bars, then drove out of the ferry terminal car park. Straight into the overhead bar that limits vehicle height. Cue one bent frame, wrecked bike rack and dented motor.

On a similar vein, my boss had his son's mtb on the roof, when the tube support broke, and the bike keeled over sideways, held only by the wheel straps. Cue broken side window as the handlebars made an unexpected attempt at getting into the car. All at speed on the A9.

My own experience was a hoot. Riding home from work last September, I had an 'off' on wet leaves and broke my shoulder. An older chap saw what happened, and kindly phoned for the ambulance and waited with me until it arrived. As the paramedics led me to the ambulance, they asked what I would do with my bike. I had no lock with me, so the chap who had who had phoned for the ambulance offered to look after it. Very kind, and what option did I have? We exchanged numbers, and he said he would keep it until I was able to come and get it.

Anyhoo, after a few attempts I got hold of him, and true to his word he'd ridden the bike home. "It's a very nice bike" he told me over the phone "my wife looked it up on the internet, and it's really quite an expensive bike, isn't it" here we go, I thought, now for the ransom note - my family had been winding me up mercilessly about it appearing on FleaBay. So I said nothing, and just arranged to go over the next day to collect.

With my arm in a sling, I needed a lift, so press-ganged my 6'5" brother-in-law (he of the bent bike) into coming with me. As we rolled up at the Council Association detention block for Immigrants and Strange Folks in Scotstoun, I was feeling distinctly nervous. Up to the 5th floor in a lift that reeked of wee-wee and beer, and there was the chap who had rescued my bike. "Come in, come in" he welcomed as we entered a somewhat chintzy flat, "this is my wife Veronica"

I'm sure we both looked like beached fish at that point. "Veronica" was clearly another bloke, but dressed in a flowery dress, and wearing a wig, makeup and false boobs. Her voice wavered from camp imitation woman to manly baritone in a single sentence. The final straw was the size 10 hairy feet in flipflops, and painted toenails.

We were offered tea, but politely declined, backs to the wall. I handed over a nice bottle of malt and a thank you card, which was well received, then we bid farewell and hustled my bike out into the lift, being careful not to touch the saddle. We managed to contain it for about 3 nanoseconds after the lift door closed - I'm sure they must have heard the gales of laughter all the way down the lift shaft. After we got the bike into the back of the car, it took a full ten minutes before my brother-in-law was capable of driving. I have never laughed so much in all my life. I swear wee escaped.... every so often on the way home we'd look at each other and start howling with laughter. It's a miracle we got home in one piece.

Well written, that had me smiling!

nakita222

markyboy2005 wrote:

Blacktemplar wrote:

A couple of "third party" tales that made me smile, plus one more disturbing effort of my own...

My brother-in-law put his bike on the roof bars, then drove out of the ferry terminal car park. Straight into the overhead bar that limits vehicle height. Cue one bent frame, wrecked bike rack and dented motor.

On a similar vein, my boss had his son's mtb on the roof, when the tube support broke, and the bike keeled over sideways, held only by the wheel straps. Cue broken side window as the handlebars made an unexpected attempt at getting into the car. All at speed on the A9.

My own experience was a hoot. Riding home from work last September, I had an 'off' on wet leaves and broke my shoulder. An older chap saw what happened, and kindly phoned for the ambulance and waited with me until it arrived. As the paramedics led me to the ambulance, they asked what I would do with my bike. I had no lock with me, so the chap who had who had phoned for the ambulance offered to look after it. Very kind, and what option did I have? We exchanged numbers, and he said he would keep it until I was able to come and get it.

Anyhoo, after a few attempts I got hold of him, and true to his word he'd ridden the bike home. "It's a very nice bike" he told me over the phone "my wife looked it up on the internet, and it's really quite an expensive bike, isn't it" here we go, I thought, now for the ransom note - my family had been winding me up mercilessly about it appearing on FleaBay. So I said nothing, and just arranged to go over the next day to collect.

With my arm in a sling, I needed a lift, so press-ganged my 6'5" brother-in-law (he of the bent bike) into coming with me. As we rolled up at the Council Association detention block for Immigrants and Strange Folks in Scotstoun, I was feeling distinctly nervous. Up to the 5th floor in a lift that reeked of wee-wee and beer, and there was the chap who had rescued my bike. "Come in, come in" he welcomed as we entered a somewhat chintzy flat, "this is my wife Veronica"

I'm sure we both looked like beached fish at that point. "Veronica" was clearly another bloke, but dressed in a flowery dress, and wearing a wig, makeup and false boobs. Her voice wavered from camp imitation woman to manly baritone in a single sentence. The final straw was the size 10 hairy feet in flipflops, and painted toenails.

We were offered tea, but politely declined, backs to the wall. I handed over a nice bottle of malt and a thank you card, which was well received, then we bid farewell and hustled my bike out into the lift, being careful not to touch the saddle. We managed to contain it for about 3 nanoseconds after the lift door closed - I'm sure they must have heard the gales of laughter all the way down the lift shaft. After we got the bike into the back of the car, it took a full ten minutes before my brother-in-law was capable of driving. I have never laughed so much in all my life. I swear wee escaped.... every so often on the way home we'd look at each other and start howling with laughter. It's a miracle we got home in one piece.

True Genius

pedylan

Blacktemplar wrote:

A couple of "third party" tales that made me smile, plus one more disturbing effort of my own...

My brother-in-law put his bike on the roof bars, then drove out of the ferry terminal car park. Straight into the overhead bar that limits vehicle height. Cue one bent frame, wrecked bike rack and dented motor.

On a similar vein, my boss had his son's mtb on the roof, when the tube support broke, and the bike keeled over sideways, held only by the wheel straps. Cue broken side window as the handlebars made an unexpected attempt at getting into the car. All at speed on the A9.

My own experience was a hoot. Riding home from work last September, I had an 'off' on wet leaves and broke my shoulder. An older chap saw what happened, and kindly phoned for the ambulance and waited with me until it arrived. As the paramedics led me to the ambulance, they asked what I would do with my bike. I had no lock with me, so the chap who had who had phoned for the ambulance offered to look after it. Very kind, and what option did I have? We exchanged numbers, and he said he would keep it until I was able to come and get it.

Anyhoo, after a few attempts I got hold of him, and true to his word he'd ridden the bike home. "It's a very nice bike" he told me over the phone "my wife looked it up on the internet, and it's really quite an expensive bike, isn't it" here we go, I thought, now for the ransom note - my family had been winding me up mercilessly about it appearing on FleaBay. So I said nothing, and just arranged to go over the next day to collect.

With my arm in a sling, I needed a lift, so press-ganged my 6'5" brother-in-law (he of the bent bike) into coming with me. As we rolled up at the Council Association detention block for Immigrants and Strange Folks in Scotstoun, I was feeling distinctly nervous. Up to the 5th floor in a lift that reeked of wee-wee and beer, and there was the chap who had rescued my bike. "Come in, come in" he welcomed as we entered a somewhat chintzy flat, "this is my wife Veronica"

I'm sure we both looked like beached fish at that point. "Veronica" was clearly another bloke, but dressed in a flowery dress, and wearing a wig, makeup and false boobs. Her voice wavered from camp imitation woman to manly baritone in a single sentence. The final straw was the size 10 hairy feet in flipflops, and painted toenails.

We were offered tea, but politely declined, backs to the wall. I handed over a nice bottle of malt and a thank you card, which was well received, then we bid farewell and hustled my bike out into the lift, being careful not to touch the saddle. We managed to contain it for about 3 nanoseconds after the lift door closed - I'm sure they must have heard the gales of laughter all the way down the lift shaft. After we got the bike into the back of the car, it took a full ten minutes before my brother-in-law was capable of driving. I have never laughed so much in all my life. I swear wee escaped.... every so often on the way home we'd look at each other and start howling with laughter. It's a miracle we got home in one piece.

League of Gentleman standard! Well told.