Walk of Shame
So yesterday I was on my way home from work, casually cycling through town - nothing unusual there. I reached the bottom of the only real climb of the journey, slipped into the granny ring and upped the power ready for the incline. Suddenly there was an almighty THUNK! The pedals ground to a halt, my nether regions slammed into the handlebars, and I toppled over onto the pavement.
Luckily the slope meant that I was not travelling very fast and no serious injury occurred. I unclipped from the pedals and gingerly stood up (glancing around to check that there wasn't a large crowd laughing at my misfortune - luckily just a lone dog walker politely trying to swallow a smile!) Looking down I quickly realised the reason for my tarmac detour. The rear mech had sheered clean off and, along with the chain had formed a very close attachment to the chainset (for those not cycling or technically minded - think metal spaghetti!)
I instantly felt a great deal of pride. Clearly I have the raw power in my legs to tear metal apart. I was thinking that I really must go get that Superman cycling jersey I saw on Ebay the other day. Sadly the owner of my local bike shop pointed out that actually this problem was likely caused my complete lack of the care for the bike. The build up of rust and gunk was testament to the fact that when it comes to cleaning my bike I am incredibly lazy. I still think that the amount of power in my legs must have something to do with it........ even if my laziness is also a factor.
However lovers of karma will be pleased to hear that I got my just desserts. So now we move onto the reason for the title of this post. Having left my faithful steed in the care of the mechanic I walked out into the sunshine and it occurred to me I had absolutely no way to get home.
The walk of shame is historically reserved for the dirty stop out returning home in the clothes from the night before, having got up to who knows what with that person whose name they really wish they could remember. For me it was trudging through a busy town centre at lunchtime in full lycra and cycle shoes, a cycle helmet tucked under my arm, but no bike! There was a wide variety of looks from the passing public, one or two shouts of "you forgot your bike mate!" and I even got one of "where's the fancy dress party at?!"
I managed to smile politely for long enough to make it to the taxi rank. Luckily I didn't have to wait long and was soon on my way back home. I am currently sitting, waiting for a call from the shop to let me know exactly what my lack of maintenance is going to cost me. The cost to my ego is already enormous so I am hoping they will go easy on me.........
