Marooned in Frodsham

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It was all going so well. Got a load of miles under my belt, did a really good ride at the weekend to Kelsall which has lots of climbing, did 10 miles bumpy off road on Thursday and then I chose to do another cycle into work Friday morning which felt good.

Then 5.30pm on Friday night I set off home, my bag laden down with PC, cables and work clothes. Things were OK until I started climbing out of Frodsham through the Friday commuter traffic. I think I was taking too much pleasure from cycling passed the queueing cars, as things went rapidly awry.

The bike chain slipped, I wobbled but soldiered on, crunching down the gears, it slipped again, I veered close to a grumpy looking lady in a Ford Mondeo, almost taking off her wing mirror, much to her annoyance. I stood out of the saddle wrestling the bike into a straight trajectory, forcing the chain round, and then disaster. With a sickening crunch the chain snapped and fell into the middle of the traffic, leaving me freewheeling, going nowhere fast.

I got to the side of the road dead chain in hand and reflected on my situation. 10 miles from home, a broken bike, a very heavy bag, and then I realised my hands were completely covered in oil, as was my face as I had been wiping the sweat from my eyes. The lady in the Mondeo smiled evilly at me as she pulled away.

Only 1 thing for it, ring Michelle get her to come and get me in the car. I fished for my phone and rang her, smearing it in oil as I did. She answered and I breathlessly explained my predicament. However, she had our 3 boys and 2 friends for tea, which she was cooking up as we spoke. She would have to feed them get them in the car (luckily a 7 seater) before coming to get me. I would have to leave the bike behind, because with all the boys there would be no room to load it.

I walked with the bike as far as I could in the hour Michelle took to get to me and chained it up. I stood waiting by a bus stop in my luminescent sweaty lycra, face blackened with oil, avoiding eye contact with worried pedestrians. Then I had the joyful journey home made up of 30 minutes of collective derision from a car full of 6, 9 and 10 year old boys.

All I could think of was what happens if my chain breaks half way up the Pennines. I can hear the icy silence now as Michelle bundles the boys in the car for the long trip to save Daddy - again.

You can sponsor me at http://www.justgiving.com/Martin-Lally0