Rode home last Thursday eve after a massive
thunderstorm rolled through Sydney.
First rain we’ve had for some time.
Trundled over the SHB as usual, and as usual wiggled round the barrier
at the northern end to line up for the ramps between the stairs. It’s probably been years since I have not
ridden the ramps. Once I figured out how
to do it (significant fear factor that first time) it became habitual
and routine, even if there is a sea of people using one edge or the other to
roll their bikes. “Coming through”
usually parts the waters comfortably.
I’ve had rear wheel skid issues before on a damp track, but
nothing I couldn’t control. This time,
however, turned out to be quite different.
I’d feathered the brakes for several hundred meters on approach to dry
off the rims, but the extent of the wetness of the concrete surface was
something I hadn’t quite appreciated. By
the time I got to the bottom of the first ramp, with the rear wheel having just
lost some traction, I knew this time was going to be different. I skidded at least half of the second ramp,
and the little flat spots between ramps were no-where near long enough to scrub
off speed. Like Mulga Bill I was in for
a wild ride. The final three ramps were
basically continuous slide fest, each one faster than the last. I had picked my line (straight down the
middle – fortunately there was no traffic), now it was just a matter of hanging
on – akin to riding a gnarly chute on the mtb (wherever the front wheel goes,
the rest will follow). The compression
of the intervening flat spots somehow allowed the rear wheel to re-align before
the next ramp skewed it sideways. A
commuter at the bottom who was witnessing the impending catastrophe had the
presence of mind to step aside just in time, allowing me to shoot off the
bottom out onto the road.
Wow that was close. I couldn’t believe what I had gotten away
with. Losing it on the stairs doesn’t
bear thinking about. What an idiot I’d
been. Talk about lucky. I reflected on this as I gingerly trundled up
the sopping road to the Milson’s Point roundabout. An approaching car even slowed to a complete stop
to let me take the RH corner nice and slow.
Next thing I know I’m on my side with the bike sliding away from me on
the off-camber corner. Bugger! Ripped a massive hole in my new knicks as
well. Reminded me of the
Cervelo/Bobbo/bilge incident of a few
(6!) years ago. Swings and
roundabouts I guess, or have I just intersected karma? Despite a few inches of bark off the hip and
elbow, I still reckon I got off lightly.
Hopefully this doesn’t mean there is more to come.
Lesson learnt (stairs are sometimes your
friend). Spent Saturday down at Stromlo
with Ben working out how to ride parts of the Scott24hr course. Hopefully this constitutes prudent adherence
to the 7 Ps and will ensure a trouble-free run in early October.
Grazedpants signing off.
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