Manitoba

10 miles out of Neepawa...I decided to skip to TCT because it trailed into invisible nothingness.
Just got back into town and the TCH crossroads when there was a terrible clunck , scrape, ping and jam from my gears.

I freewheeled to the side of the road.

New jockey wheels missing.

Mech hanger bent.

Chain jammed.

This wasn't good.

I put the bike down around the corner, sighed and tried to suppress panic in favour of pragmatism.

Perhaps it was salvageable.

I found the jockey wheels
.. both screws (amazingly), but only 3 washers.... you know those washers that the cog wouldn't turn without. Bugger.

It must be somewhere on the intersection. I wandered cautiously on the sides and middles of the road, head down, frantically scouring the dusty track... knowing that the greasy washer could have easily stuck to any of the passing traffics' wheels and already be metres away.

45 minutes playing chicken with trucks on Canada's busiest highway...until a police siren started up behind me.

The police truck stopped in the middle of the junction, lights flashing and siren whooping in that tuneful American/Canadian fashion. Two very serious-looking cops jumped and cautiously approached...I remembered the jay walking laws. Joy.

I apologised and led them to the bike... waffling about mech hangers and jockey wheels and when I turned around their stoney faces were finally relaxing : "Oh, your bike's broke?" one asked.

"Yer, I'm desperately trying to find a lost washer otherwise I'm screwed" I replied

Turns out someone had phoned the police because a meth-head (a.k.a. me) was wandering deliriously in and out of the traffic, head down like a zombie.

The cops were really nice. They took my details, confirmed there were no bike shops in town, gave me some suggestions (Brampton city 50 miles away) wished me good luck and headed off.

While surveying the damage a car pulled up and someone started asking me about the problems. I looked up and saw a crinkled face that almost looked...he said "you don't recognise me, do you" and then it clicked....this was Jim a motorcycle biker I'd camped next to sometime last week and we'd had a good chat. Whatever the chances were of this random meet, they were pretty damn slim, but it was unexpectedly great to see a familiar face. He said he'd make some phone calls, and left.

Within 10minutes an older guy drove up. Seems he's the only bike expert in town...Jim had called a friend who knew of this guy, who knew Alex the bike mechanic and here he was...,raced here within 30mins like a freaking emergency service. Wow.

Then the cop from earlier drove up with a PostIt and a phone number and the name "Alex"on it: "Here you go Rick, the station found this number of a local bike guy who might be able to help." Alex butted in asking what name was on the PostIt, "Alex" said the cop. "Yep, that's me!" said Alex.

The full power of Neepawa's community was cranking rapidly into action - all for me!

Alex poked around and we chatted about possibilities. He liked my straighten/rebuild then limp to the next town theory but saw that it was impossible without the washer...he took one of the others and drove off, saying he'd be back soon.

Another guy wandered up...we discussed the problem and he told me about a shuttle bus that goes once a day into Brampton, but couldn't help otherwise. I thanked him. My head was starting to spin with all the offers of assistance and kindness, and the need for me to sift through everything to find a masterplan.

A mechanic from the garage behind me offered the use of any tools, and a toilet and sink to clean up in.

Alex returned with some washers but couldn't help any more.

A lady, Maggie, walked up, chatted, and jumped on the phone to talk to her friend who was part of the large Filipino cycling community nearby(!). No answer from her friend, but she said she'd be back, and might be able to drive me to the next big town, Brampton, 1h down the road but not till after noon.

I tried to fix the bike...I almost got everything back together before it just pinged apart...the screw threads are shot. I can't fix this.

All hopes are on Maggie's lift into the next town.

It's started to rain and I've taken shelter, along with all my stuff and a broken bike inside the garage.

It's now 12:45

Maggie said she'd be back 45 mins ago...and I've just realised that if she drove by she might not have seen that I've moved out of the rain.

Bugger.

Stranded with a dead bike.Read more