It was quite an unstable situation to have a huge bag of washing on my back and my backpack hung around my neck as I tried to ride down a narrow track hedged in on both sides by gnarly thorn bushes. I had been down this track many times and by experience knew that just one wrong move would land a huge thorn in the middle of my tyre and leave it as flat as three day old road-kill.
The thorn bush (now broken) and my path through the middle.
So above all I was trying to be careful. It was this foolish notion of being careful that led me into this problem in the first place. Somewhere along the track it branches into two as it passes a particularly nasty thorn bush. On one side the track has a small sudden drop-off, while on the other side it is a smooth track down to the next level. The drop-off is always fun on the bike when all is good. Today not all was good.
In addition to carrying the heavy load of washing on my back, the seat pole had been bent seriously out of shape and was threatening to collapse underneath me. The drop-off could be just the thing to bring it to that point. Of course none of this information was actually thought about until the drop-off came into sight. At that point a decision had to be made, and fast. The drop-off was direct and easy but the seat pole situation was threatening serious discomfort if it broke. The other pathway was preferable but involved a quick duck to the side. I forgot about the washing on my back.
The bent seat pole (that bent even more the same day).
The weight of the washing caused everything to slow down. Right down. So much so that my quick dash off to the side ended up instead as a slight deviation to straight. Too fast to stop, too slow to turn, and now completely without option. The thorn bush loomed menacingly ahead. Then suddenly, “crash, scrape, bang, bump!” I had just ridden directly through the middle.
The worst case scenario had just happened. Doh! Now what?
One of the thorns that threatened my tyre.
After climbing off and checking over the bike, I was both astonished and relieved to discover that there had been no punctures. Somehow, although stuck in various parts of the treads, the nasty thorns had missed their mark and left my tyres inflated and intact. Climbing onto the bike again I continued my journey, but this time with more care and less speed. I had learned my lesson…
Indecision or a late decision is worse than a bad decision.
