In Which There is an Unpleasant Crunch

Pretty spring skies seen on bike rides this week.

Biking in early spring in Iowa—sometimes in sun, sometimes in wind, sometimes with ice pellets snapping and stinging on your skin.

It’s been a week of contrasts. Several nights have featured light sprinkles, with occasional icy spots in the morning.

Good thing I had a mountain bike. But why the past tense?

I don’t recall the exact reason, but on Wednesday night was I was in a hurry to get home. I flew along on the mountain bike, which I rode that day due to an icy morning. By evening, the pavement was all dry and I was ready to fly.

I got about 2/3 of the way home, and was behind Kenwood School. On the ride home, I go down a little incline, make a sharp right turn and head up a small hill. I had gained speed on the downhill, rounded the corner and was pumping up the hill.

I was moving pretty well, and, frankly, feeling pretty good. I didn’t even hit a bump or anything, but all of a sudden I heard That Sound. It’s hard to describe, kind of a slow crunch. It’s not a snap, it’s almost a groan.

And I knew what that unpleasant sound probably was. I looked down at the rare wheel and immediately saw the wobble.

Spoke broke.

Broken spoke on Wednesday.

Aw well. The rest of the ride home was slower—I didn’t want to put strain on a suddenly weakened back wheel. Near home, I paused to make an image of the pretty sunset.

Well, today I rode the hybrid bike. It was OK, except super windy and cold on the way home. A bit of snow was in the air, and whipped by a powerful wind, the snow stung my face as it smacked into me.

The ride home was slow as I rode the “wind hill.”

Well, it’s been a week of contrasts, but still a week of bike riding, too. And, despite some chilly winds, pretty spring skies.

Wednesday sunset.