On Saturday, replaced my (cracked) chopped drops with a major taylor drop bar, to see what it was like.
On Sunday, the fail began.
1) replaced my GF's front tyre and inner. She's German, so on Dunlop/Woods (or in German 'Blitz' ) valves and I intended to change her for Schraders so she can go longer without re-inflating them. After fitting the front wheel back on and reinflating, I was just bent over and unscrewing my track pump when what looked like rubber bubbles bulged out from under the tyre, right next to the valve and my face. Before I could react, the inner tube exploded. about 4 inches from my face. I've shot a .45 pistol and this was louder - my ears were ringing for about 15 minutes.
I carry on fixing her bike, and soon after we're ready to cycle to the British Museum to see our friends.
At this point I rapidly realise that with the sexy new drop bars my bike is utterly unrideable - I'm 6'3" and the drops 'shorten' the bike too much - I can't pedal comfortably - my knees keep hitting my chest and elbows, and steering is difficult - further to that I can't find a comfortable hand position from which to use the brakes. It's like trying to ride a bike for a child or a monkey. I wobbled to Central London in constant fear of collision and/or death - thankfully my predicament was abundantly obvious to all the taxi and bus drivers we encountered and they took pity upon me. The same was not true of the ferrarri driver near Barbican.
Epic Fail has never been a more appropriate phrase. I have no-one to blame but myself...
On Saturday, replaced my (cracked) chopped drops with a major taylor drop bar, to see what it was like.
On Sunday, the fail began.
1) replaced my GF's front tyre and inner. She's German, so on Dunlop/Woods (or in German 'Blitz' ) valves and I intended to change her for Schraders so she can go longer without re-inflating them. After fitting the front wheel back on and reinflating, I was just bent over and unscrewing my track pump when what looked like rubber bubbles bulged out from under the tyre, right next to the valve and my face. Before I could react, the inner tube exploded. about 4 inches from my face. I've shot a .45 pistol and this was louder - my ears were ringing for about 15 minutes.
I carry on fixing her bike, and soon after we're ready to cycle to the British Museum to see our friends.
At this point I rapidly realise that with the sexy new drop bars my bike is utterly unrideable - I'm 6'3" and the drops 'shorten' the bike too much - I can't pedal comfortably - my knees keep hitting my chest and elbows, and steering is difficult - further to that I can't find a comfortable hand position from which to use the brakes. It's like trying to ride a bike for a child or a monkey. I wobbled to Central London in constant fear of collision and/or death - thankfully my predicament was abundantly obvious to all the taxi and bus drivers we encountered and they took pity upon me. The same was not true of the ferrarri driver near Barbican.
Epic Fail has never been a more appropriate phrase. I have no-one to blame but myself...