Friday, January 22, 2021

My silent horse

I destroyed my official mountain bike on the way back home from a long ride, some months ago, and since then, given the lockdown and the limited number of cycling shops open, instead of turning my attention to other sports, I took back the "old" bicycle that I had passed to my son. This bike, after only one year I had told him to use it, was in very poor conditions, having been left dusting and rusting under sun and water the whole summer. I dared to ask my son a couple of times what the hell had he done to bring it to such status. His answers were always so elusive that I gave up asking.

So I set myself up to fix it at my best and ride it till the times will consent me to choose the right bicycle shop where to bring the other one and have it back again. I ordered a new chain and gear-pack on a web retailer, met with a colleague engineer one Sunday afternoon and made the necessary repairs. In doing this I refreshed my knowledge of the whole mechanism of the gears, the switches and breaks. Easy to learn, as well as to forget, when you don't deal with them every day.

I remember having bought the new bike because I thought this one was almost at the end of its life, let's say of its career. Still, in the last months there has been no gravel, road or rocky track that I had recently done with the new one, where it couldn't take me. In the meantime, for some magical coincidence (and some well done lubrications) the annoying creaking of the springs of the front shock absorbers has also gone. I can only hear the road and my breath now.

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