I was heading up to Wexford on I-79 for a bike fitting with a bike I was simply calling 'the silver bike'. I was hoping to get more comfortable riding her. I liked her shifters, drivetrain and climbing capabilities much better than the Monster.
Just before the Carnegie interchange, as I'm doing 55 MPH, I looked in my rear view mirror and the bike's ass end was dangling off the rack, only held there by a cable lock that I like to use because the silver bike is tiny and doesn't fit properly on a bike rack designed for adult-sized bikes. It had popped out of the rubber latches on the one side.
As Vannevar so plainly put it, this bike stayed with me despite my incompetence.
Adrenaline kicked in and I was able to put the hazard lights on, NOT hit the brakes or make any evasive maneuvers that would cause the bike to come off the rack completely in the middle lane of 79. I edged over to the shoulder, thankfully traffic there saw my predicament and gave way.
There on the shoulder, the adrenaline wore off and and I started shaking. What if it had come off and caused another vehicle to crash? This was horrible and it was all my fault. Now I had to get out and get the bike back on the rack with car and trucks zipping by at 70MPH just feet away in the rain. I had visions of all those horrible police dash-cam videos of police officers getting hit by wayward traffic on the side of the road.
While Ruby's supposed to get my heart rate up, this wasn't the route I'd anticipated. I didn't stop shaking until I got beyond Neville Island.
At the bike shop, I promptly bought a bar that will prevent that sort of thing from happening again.