shining, the birds were singing, and there was a crisp breeze in the
trees. I was merrily biking to work, navigating the treacherous streets
of Ottawa with a smile in my heart and a song on my lips.
Then the seat fell off my bike.
Now, before you worry too much, I was unharmed. Startled, but unharmed.
A kindly individual who happened to be walking by helped me pick up the
pieces of my bike seat, which I stowed in my pannier. I then walked the
rest of the way to work. I was rather less cheerful, as you can
What had happened was that the bolt which holds the seat in place had
Now, I know that this is fixable (how do I know, you ask?) -- it has
happened to me before. Not six months ago, in fact. A brand new bolt
was used to fix my bike not six months ago. Given that I don't bike
during the snowy bikes, this means the brand new bolt had been worn
through by the seat-post in record time.
I thought about this. I could fix the seat again -- it wouldn't be too
big a deal. But if this has happened twice recently, it seemed likely
that it would happen again. And the sudden absence of a seat is the
kind of thing that could result in me being hurt rather badly. And my
bike is getting on in years, and has been much abused. So I eventually
decided it was time to buy a new bike.
So I did. I got a lovely little mountain bike, on sale, and brought him
home yesterday(*). His name is Bill (because inanimate objects must
have names!). He's a sturdy little bike, and quite a nice ride. He
handles hills beautifully. And I'm reasonably confident his seat isn't
going to come off anytime soon.
(*)There's another epic tale here, about buses. But it's a grumpy tale,
so I'll tell it separately.