Bicycle lube is a funny thing. For a lot of people, it’s just an unglamorous maintenance necessity. But for some, it transcends the utilitarian function of keeping moving parts happy and becomes somewhat of a sophistication yardstick, like the bike maintenance equivalent of wine. And just as there are connoisseurs of fine wine, there are bike lube snobs as well. And just as with wine, quality is arguably preferable to quantity. With a few high quality, long lasting lubes, you can keep your bike humming.
CHAIN
There really are two categories of “cleaning and lubing” your chain. There’s the degreaser-and-rag method done by soaking a rag with degreaser, grasping your chain with it and back pedaling while letting the chain move through your closed fist, depositing all the grime onto the rag. And then there’s the remove-chain-and-have-your-shop-run-it-through-a-parts-washer method (the home version: buy a pie pan, soak the chain in degreaser and then go to town with a toothbrush). Depending on your method of choice, here are some lube recommendations:
Degreaser-and-rag method: Boeshield® T9 Waterproof Lubrication. A light, waterproof lube produced by Boeing. To apply, remove as much grime from your chain as you can with an environmentally friendly degreaser such as Pedro’s Pro-J (this is also known as the higher calling for old T-shirts). Dry the chain and deposit a drop of T9 on the top of each link. Slowly back pedal for a few revolutions so that it has a chance to work its way into the link. Wipe off the excess.
Parts washer/toothbrush method: Dumonde Tech Bicycle Chain Lube (Original for mountain bikes, Lite for road bikes). Starting with an absolutely clean chain (if the chain is fresh out of the package, clean it thoroughly to remove the factory coating) follow the same application instructions mentioned above, wiping off the excess.
CLIPLESS PEDALS
If your clipless pedal system has a visible spring, apply a drop of lube on it occasionally to keep it rust-free and working well. T9 works well here too.
Pedal threads should be greased each and every time you install any pedals – there will always come the time when you will want to get them off. A tube of Phil Wood Waterproof Grease is all you’ll need.
CABLES
Coating your cables with a thin film of lubrication not only benefits your shifting, it extends the life of your cables by preventing rust. Since T9 is waterproof and dries to the touch it’s an ideal choice.
To lube your shifter cables, shift the rear derailleur to the lowest gear/the largest cog (or the front derailleur to the highest gear/big chainring, respectively). Without pedaling, click your shifter and upshift to the hardest gear/smallest cog (or the small chainring in the front). This will result in a nice amount of cable slack, and on some bikes allow you to slip the housing out of the slotted cable stops and coat the cables more thoroughly. Apply a few drops of lube between your finger tips and slide them along the length of the cable until it’s covered in a thin film. Wipe of any dirt from your cables, paying special attention to where they run through the cable guide under the bottom bracket. Don’t forget about your brake cables – the same lube and application method can be used.
PIVOT POINTS
A drop of lube on each pivot point of your derailleurs and brakes (except disc brakes) will keep them functioning smoothly and be less hospitable to rust. The same T9 lubrication recommended above can be used here. Be sure to wipe off the excess.
DERAILLIEUR PULLEY
An extremely popular cause of annoying hard-to-track-down squeaks, the derailleur pulleys are often neglected in the maintenance lube routine. With a rag and some degreaser, get your derailleur pulleys as clean as possible. Then apply a small drop of T9 to the bearings in the pulley’s center. Backpedal, and then wipe off any lube that didn’t work its way in.
Boeshield® T9 4 oz/$7.99 www.boeshield.com and bike shops
Dumonde Tech Bicycle Chain Lube, Original and Lite 4 oz/$12.99.www.hgnr.com and bike shops
Phil Wood Waterproof Grease 3 oz/$6.50 www.philwood.com or at your local bike shop
Pedro’s Pro-J Professional Strength Citrus Degreaser 16 0z/$14.99 www.pedros.com or your local bike shop.
10/23/2009
2/06/2009
Bike Shop Love
“No single group within the cycling community seems to better reflect the history, spirit and enthusiasm of cycling than the local retailer.” – Eric Gruenwedel.
Few bike shops stand the test of time long enough to become legends. With lives as illustrious as those of their founders, these shops come to serve as guardians of local cycling culture and lore. With museum-like reverence for the past, they provide glimpses of cycling evolution for current generations.
In the San Francisco Bay Area, three such bike shops immediately come to mind.
Oscar’s Shop
American Cyclery sits at the helm of San Francisco’s infamous Bicycle Row, occupying two corners, across from each other, where Stanyan and Frederick Streets meet (the original store, and American Cyclery Too, respectively). The doors first opened in 1943, after Oscar Junor retired from an accomplished career as one of the countries premier six day racers in the 1930’s. Among his racing stories was the tale of snatching the hat from Bette Davis’ head before going on to win the last Los Angeles Six. A few years later, Oscar again turned heads by attempting to ride his bike across the Golden Gate Bridge a day before it opened to the public.
From its earliest days, his shop drew local racers from all over the area as one of the only places they could fraternize with “their own.” Oscar himself, selectively dispersing grains of experience to riders he deemed worthy, was as great an attraction as the fine lightweight bicycles he was one of the first to import from Europe. Along with the bikes on the sales floor, the store carried even more obscure treasures that filled the shop’s basement.
“Oscar would never let anyone down there,” chuckles Bradley Woehl, who acquired the store in 1996, the third owner in the shop’s history. “If you asked the right way, and you had proven yourself worthy of him selling you that part, then he might sell it to you. Or he might let you look at it and then six months later sell you that part.”
The nether regions of American Cyclery remain to this day the place to inquire for vintage Campy or anything else from decades past. Bradley, who also publishes Bicycle Trader magazine, has always been “into the old stuff.” His goal for the shop from the beginning was to publish the magazine, helping people to buy, sell and trade old bikes, while also having specialty items for sale in the shop. Hence the case full of vintage Camagnolo derailleurs, on display like jewelry.
Some of the fondest reminiscent of Oscar come from the racers he mentored throughout his life, those who knew the man beneath gruff exterior. Among them was Peter Rich, whose racing career spanned the1950’s and early 60’s. Peter remembers Oscar and his shop as being a central location in the world of every serious cyclist at that time.
“We used to meet at 8 a.m. every Saturday morning at Oscar’s shop. We’d hang around and talk to Oscar, then we would ride south to go see Spence. I bought my first two Cinellis from Spence.”
Spence’s Shop
Cupertino Bike Shop started as a project in Spence Wolf’s garage. After failing to find a local shop that carried tubular tires in the late 1940’s, Spence began to manufacture them himself, setting up shop in the garage next to the home he shared with his wife, Lillian. Word of Spence’s considerable prowess as a wheel builder and mechanic soon spread, and before long there were riders lining up on his front lawn every Saturday morning. By 1953, Spence and Lillian officially went into business, and Cupertino Bike Shop opened its doors.
“He built the shop on his attention to detail. He was extremely meticulous and methodical. Everything had to be perfect, it had to be right, and it had to work,” says Vance Sprock, who currently owns the store with his wife, Cynthia.
The first and only shop in the area to perform custom bike builds, as well as bring Cinellis and Singers on to American pavement, its reputation quickly grew. Spence’s ingenuity not only lead to wheels that are still on the road and true thirty years later, but also to such innovations as the “Wolf/Alpine Modification,” a pulley extension arm Spence machined to work with Camagnolo Nuovo Record rear derailleurs, allowing for a wider range of gearing. A set of arms with Campy rollers sold for $17.
Spence’s endless quest to build a better wheel resulted in scores of special orders for 24, 28, 32,40, and 48 hole rims from the French manufacturer Super Champion, as the 36 hole standard of the times did not match his own. In the late 70’s he convinced an unemployed machinist friend named Phil Wood to make a batch of 50 sealed bearing hubs ‘just to see if they’ll sell.’ Undoubtedly, we all know the end of that story.
Among many things that gives this store it’s remarkable staying power is the painstaking attention to detail by the owners, past and present.
“Things need to be done properly,” says Vance. “I’m here six, seven days a week… there’s a lot of dedication.”
“It really is a labor of love,” says Cynthia. The Sprocks have owned Cupertino Bike Shop for the past thirteen years.
The store still carries on the in the original spirit of Spence’s love for the sport by sponsoring Hellyer Velodrome, nurturing it’s own race team, and hosting one of the biggest annual swap meets in the Bay Area.
Peter’s Shop
Both of these shops and their original proprietors had a profound influence on Peter Rich. In 1962, after being mentored as a young racer by the likes of Oscar Junor and Spence Wolf, he decided to open a bike shop in Berkeley at the relatively tender age of 21. He called it Velo Sport.
His many years racing had fostered in him a love of finely crafted bicycles, which became evident when he began to bring bikes with the names Masi and Colnago on their down tubes over from Italy. “They were unavailable here back then. I brought them in ten at a time,” Peter remembers.
In 1957, Peter had put on what is now the second oldest road race in the U.S, the Berkeley Hills Race.
“The vision for the shop from the beginning was to create a forum to promote bike racing,” he says.
As the founder of what later evolved into the NCNCA, he held regular meetings in his mom’s living room with delegates from local cycling clubs, actively promoting the racing scene. One of Peter’s proudest achievements, the first edition of the Tour de California, came about in 1971.
In 1968, a man by the name of Albert Eisentraut began a stint as a mechanic at Velo Sport. Eventually, after many conversations, Peter and Eisentraut came to an arrangement.
“We agreed that I would subsidize a frame shop,” he said. “After about two years, he started making frames here.”
However, racing has always been Peter’s focus. He dispersed pearls of wisdom to fledgling racers as a coach, just as Oscar had done for him decades earlier. The room where Eisentraut once built his masterpieces now houses young racers from out of state, whom Peter gives a place to stay so they can race in the area.
Genuine Love
What sets these bike shops apart from so many others is simply the motivation for their existence. Past and present owners are not driven by hype and dreams of huge profit margins, but rather by genuine love of the sport itself. It is this passion that inspires them to work the unrelenting hours and make all the sacrifices necessary to keep the doors of their shops open. It is this passion that earned these shops their own rightful place as characters in the cycling annals of the Bay Area.
Cast of Characters:
American Cyclery, 858 Stanyan St. San Francisco, CA (415) 876-4545 www.Americancyclery.com
Cupertino Bike Shop, 10493 S. DeAnza Blvd., Cupertino, CA. (408)255-2217
www.cupertinobike.com
Velo Sport, 1650 Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd, Berkeley Ca. (510)849-0437
www.velosportbicycles.com
Other vital players:
Stone’s Cyclery (since 1943) 2320 Santa Clara Ave, Alameda, CA (510) 523-3264
www.stonescyclery.com
Bicycle Odyssey (since 1975) 1417 Bridgeway, Sausalito, CA (415) 332-3050 www.bicycleodyssey.com
Few bike shops stand the test of time long enough to become legends. With lives as illustrious as those of their founders, these shops come to serve as guardians of local cycling culture and lore. With museum-like reverence for the past, they provide glimpses of cycling evolution for current generations.
In the San Francisco Bay Area, three such bike shops immediately come to mind.
Oscar’s Shop
American Cyclery sits at the helm of San Francisco’s infamous Bicycle Row, occupying two corners, across from each other, where Stanyan and Frederick Streets meet (the original store, and American Cyclery Too, respectively). The doors first opened in 1943, after Oscar Junor retired from an accomplished career as one of the countries premier six day racers in the 1930’s. Among his racing stories was the tale of snatching the hat from Bette Davis’ head before going on to win the last Los Angeles Six. A few years later, Oscar again turned heads by attempting to ride his bike across the Golden Gate Bridge a day before it opened to the public.
From its earliest days, his shop drew local racers from all over the area as one of the only places they could fraternize with “their own.” Oscar himself, selectively dispersing grains of experience to riders he deemed worthy, was as great an attraction as the fine lightweight bicycles he was one of the first to import from Europe. Along with the bikes on the sales floor, the store carried even more obscure treasures that filled the shop’s basement.
“Oscar would never let anyone down there,” chuckles Bradley Woehl, who acquired the store in 1996, the third owner in the shop’s history. “If you asked the right way, and you had proven yourself worthy of him selling you that part, then he might sell it to you. Or he might let you look at it and then six months later sell you that part.”
The nether regions of American Cyclery remain to this day the place to inquire for vintage Campy or anything else from decades past. Bradley, who also publishes Bicycle Trader magazine, has always been “into the old stuff.” His goal for the shop from the beginning was to publish the magazine, helping people to buy, sell and trade old bikes, while also having specialty items for sale in the shop. Hence the case full of vintage Camagnolo derailleurs, on display like jewelry.
Some of the fondest reminiscent of Oscar come from the racers he mentored throughout his life, those who knew the man beneath gruff exterior. Among them was Peter Rich, whose racing career spanned the1950’s and early 60’s. Peter remembers Oscar and his shop as being a central location in the world of every serious cyclist at that time.
“We used to meet at 8 a.m. every Saturday morning at Oscar’s shop. We’d hang around and talk to Oscar, then we would ride south to go see Spence. I bought my first two Cinellis from Spence.”
Spence’s Shop
Cupertino Bike Shop started as a project in Spence Wolf’s garage. After failing to find a local shop that carried tubular tires in the late 1940’s, Spence began to manufacture them himself, setting up shop in the garage next to the home he shared with his wife, Lillian. Word of Spence’s considerable prowess as a wheel builder and mechanic soon spread, and before long there were riders lining up on his front lawn every Saturday morning. By 1953, Spence and Lillian officially went into business, and Cupertino Bike Shop opened its doors.
“He built the shop on his attention to detail. He was extremely meticulous and methodical. Everything had to be perfect, it had to be right, and it had to work,” says Vance Sprock, who currently owns the store with his wife, Cynthia.
The first and only shop in the area to perform custom bike builds, as well as bring Cinellis and Singers on to American pavement, its reputation quickly grew. Spence’s ingenuity not only lead to wheels that are still on the road and true thirty years later, but also to such innovations as the “Wolf/Alpine Modification,” a pulley extension arm Spence machined to work with Camagnolo Nuovo Record rear derailleurs, allowing for a wider range of gearing. A set of arms with Campy rollers sold for $17.
Spence’s endless quest to build a better wheel resulted in scores of special orders for 24, 28, 32,40, and 48 hole rims from the French manufacturer Super Champion, as the 36 hole standard of the times did not match his own. In the late 70’s he convinced an unemployed machinist friend named Phil Wood to make a batch of 50 sealed bearing hubs ‘just to see if they’ll sell.’ Undoubtedly, we all know the end of that story.
Among many things that gives this store it’s remarkable staying power is the painstaking attention to detail by the owners, past and present.
“Things need to be done properly,” says Vance. “I’m here six, seven days a week… there’s a lot of dedication.”
“It really is a labor of love,” says Cynthia. The Sprocks have owned Cupertino Bike Shop for the past thirteen years.
The store still carries on the in the original spirit of Spence’s love for the sport by sponsoring Hellyer Velodrome, nurturing it’s own race team, and hosting one of the biggest annual swap meets in the Bay Area.
Peter’s Shop
Both of these shops and their original proprietors had a profound influence on Peter Rich. In 1962, after being mentored as a young racer by the likes of Oscar Junor and Spence Wolf, he decided to open a bike shop in Berkeley at the relatively tender age of 21. He called it Velo Sport.
His many years racing had fostered in him a love of finely crafted bicycles, which became evident when he began to bring bikes with the names Masi and Colnago on their down tubes over from Italy. “They were unavailable here back then. I brought them in ten at a time,” Peter remembers.
In 1957, Peter had put on what is now the second oldest road race in the U.S, the Berkeley Hills Race.
“The vision for the shop from the beginning was to create a forum to promote bike racing,” he says.
As the founder of what later evolved into the NCNCA, he held regular meetings in his mom’s living room with delegates from local cycling clubs, actively promoting the racing scene. One of Peter’s proudest achievements, the first edition of the Tour de California, came about in 1971.
In 1968, a man by the name of Albert Eisentraut began a stint as a mechanic at Velo Sport. Eventually, after many conversations, Peter and Eisentraut came to an arrangement.
“We agreed that I would subsidize a frame shop,” he said. “After about two years, he started making frames here.”
However, racing has always been Peter’s focus. He dispersed pearls of wisdom to fledgling racers as a coach, just as Oscar had done for him decades earlier. The room where Eisentraut once built his masterpieces now houses young racers from out of state, whom Peter gives a place to stay so they can race in the area.
Genuine Love
What sets these bike shops apart from so many others is simply the motivation for their existence. Past and present owners are not driven by hype and dreams of huge profit margins, but rather by genuine love of the sport itself. It is this passion that inspires them to work the unrelenting hours and make all the sacrifices necessary to keep the doors of their shops open. It is this passion that earned these shops their own rightful place as characters in the cycling annals of the Bay Area.
Cast of Characters:
American Cyclery, 858 Stanyan St. San Francisco, CA (415) 876-4545 www.Americancyclery.com
Cupertino Bike Shop, 10493 S. DeAnza Blvd., Cupertino, CA. (408)255-2217
www.cupertinobike.com
Velo Sport, 1650 Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd, Berkeley Ca. (510)849-0437
www.velosportbicycles.com
Other vital players:
Stone’s Cyclery (since 1943) 2320 Santa Clara Ave, Alameda, CA (510) 523-3264
www.stonescyclery.com
Bicycle Odyssey (since 1975) 1417 Bridgeway, Sausalito, CA (415) 332-3050 www.bicycleodyssey.com
11/11/2008
Who Wants To Be Fast?
When I finally went to the doctor, she found three fused vertebrae and the early stages of degenerative arthritis in my back. The nagging pain I’d been experiencing for months, the numbness in three of my fingers that would start after about 20 minutes of riding, the stuff I thought I just needed to tough out and ignore until it went away – all of it was actually something that was seriously wrong. I asked her what I could do to make it go away. The first sentence of her reply contained the word ‘irreversible,” and I don’t remember much of what she said after that. Things wouldn’t go back to the way they were before. Cycling would never again be the way it once was for me.
There was a time when one of the most important things to me about riding a bike was speed. Not breaking-records-winning-races-about-to-turn-pro speed, but being fast enough to ride with boys. Riding fast enough to appease my ego and insecurities. Every ride was a training ride, with target heart rates that were monitored and cadence that was carefully regulated. The most important thing about every ride was how far, how fast, and how soon I could do it again.
The pain I’d been enduring in my spine, arms, hands and legs for too long had already forced me to embarrassing measures like jacking up my stem to 15 degrees and larding up my handlebar with cushy tape. The pain was destined to get worse and worse, the doctor warned. And I realized what this meant; I was going to get slower and slower.
Depression soon followed the diagnosis, and riding became a rarity. My bikes began to gather dust. I put two of them into storage just so I didn’t have to look at them anymore. They had become reminders of what I was missing. I felt sorry for myself a lot.
After many long, dark months, the day eventually came when I craved the freedom of riding and the joy that accompanies it more than I feared the pain. No matter how much it hurt, I had to ride my bike.
My legs were blindingly pale. I had forgotten how self-conscious wearing Lycra can make you feel, especially since I’d come to regard my body as more of an enemy than an ally. This time around, the only goal was to ride. I didn’t care how fast, how long, or how I compared to anyone else. Simply riding my bike became the end in and of itself. I was grateful to be able to do at all.
On each ride, the inevitable pain came. The knee-jerk fear soon followed with avoidance trying to stay close on its heels. Then there was that little voice, “What is the point of this? You’re only going 15 miles an hour! Is that the best you can do? You are now officially one of those slow people all your riding friends make fun of…”
So I threw away my bike computer. I told the voice of judgment to shut the fuck up. I learned to focus on all the things that are great about riding slow. Taking in the amazing things sunlight and trees can do, getting lost and enjoying it, observing small moments of magic that I never would have noticed, and stopping on the side of the road when I see something that will only happen once in a lifetime. I learned a lot about the phrase, “Life is in the details”.
And to think, all I used to see was a blur.
There was a time when one of the most important things to me about riding a bike was speed. Not breaking-records-winning-races-about-to-turn-pro speed, but being fast enough to ride with boys. Riding fast enough to appease my ego and insecurities. Every ride was a training ride, with target heart rates that were monitored and cadence that was carefully regulated. The most important thing about every ride was how far, how fast, and how soon I could do it again.
The pain I’d been enduring in my spine, arms, hands and legs for too long had already forced me to embarrassing measures like jacking up my stem to 15 degrees and larding up my handlebar with cushy tape. The pain was destined to get worse and worse, the doctor warned. And I realized what this meant; I was going to get slower and slower.
Depression soon followed the diagnosis, and riding became a rarity. My bikes began to gather dust. I put two of them into storage just so I didn’t have to look at them anymore. They had become reminders of what I was missing. I felt sorry for myself a lot.
After many long, dark months, the day eventually came when I craved the freedom of riding and the joy that accompanies it more than I feared the pain. No matter how much it hurt, I had to ride my bike.
My legs were blindingly pale. I had forgotten how self-conscious wearing Lycra can make you feel, especially since I’d come to regard my body as more of an enemy than an ally. This time around, the only goal was to ride. I didn’t care how fast, how long, or how I compared to anyone else. Simply riding my bike became the end in and of itself. I was grateful to be able to do at all.
On each ride, the inevitable pain came. The knee-jerk fear soon followed with avoidance trying to stay close on its heels. Then there was that little voice, “What is the point of this? You’re only going 15 miles an hour! Is that the best you can do? You are now officially one of those slow people all your riding friends make fun of…”
So I threw away my bike computer. I told the voice of judgment to shut the fuck up. I learned to focus on all the things that are great about riding slow. Taking in the amazing things sunlight and trees can do, getting lost and enjoying it, observing small moments of magic that I never would have noticed, and stopping on the side of the road when I see something that will only happen once in a lifetime. I learned a lot about the phrase, “Life is in the details”.
And to think, all I used to see was a blur.
2/03/2008
Female Cyclists and Chamois Cream: A Theory, the Right Sample at the Right Time, and a Recommendation
Chamois cream is, in my mind, an extremely personal choice. While I know quite a few people who couldn’t care less what brand of stuff they’re slathering on their most important contact point, none of those unselective people are women. My theory on the gender divide regarding how much the chamois cream selection is labored over comes down to the consequences of the choice: for women, some chamois creams on the market burn, some of them feel tingly (not in a good way), and some of them make it much more likely that a girl will have to deal with the yeastie-beasties. Guys don’t seem to be nearly as sensitive, and don’t really have to worry about some of these concerns all together.
After trying out a few different types of chafe-preventing goo, I got lucky with the fourth concoction I tried. It’s something I probably wouldn’t have ever chosen simply for the fact that the side of the container states, “Originally developed for use on dairy cows…” But nonetheless a little cow-spotted sample packet of Udderly SMOOth Chamois Cream found it’s way into my bag of bike clothes.
A few weeks later, after several minutes of frantic digging through my bag while getting ready for a lunch ride, came the sinking realization that I had forgotten the chamois stuff I had been using for a couple of years. And that therefore the ride would definitely be cut short. During the last hopeful rummaging, I found the Udderly SMOOth sample on the bottom of my bag, crammed into the corner with the dirty socks, and for once I was thankful that I almost never clean my out bike bag. Getting over the cow association, I decided to give Udderly SMOOth a shot. Moo.
Since that ride, I haven’t used anything else. Skin soothing ingredients like shea butter, lanolin oil and mineral oil makes it unique in the chamois cream realm of what’s available, and it’s well worth hunting down an 8 ounce cow-spot covered tub of it. I’ve had a hard time finding a bike shop that stocks it regularly, though a lot of them can special order it for you. Or you can just get your eight bucks together and order it yourself at udderlysmooth.com.
After trying out a few different types of chafe-preventing goo, I got lucky with the fourth concoction I tried. It’s something I probably wouldn’t have ever chosen simply for the fact that the side of the container states, “Originally developed for use on dairy cows…” But nonetheless a little cow-spotted sample packet of Udderly SMOOth Chamois Cream found it’s way into my bag of bike clothes.
A few weeks later, after several minutes of frantic digging through my bag while getting ready for a lunch ride, came the sinking realization that I had forgotten the chamois stuff I had been using for a couple of years. And that therefore the ride would definitely be cut short. During the last hopeful rummaging, I found the Udderly SMOOth sample on the bottom of my bag, crammed into the corner with the dirty socks, and for once I was thankful that I almost never clean my out bike bag. Getting over the cow association, I decided to give Udderly SMOOth a shot. Moo.
Since that ride, I haven’t used anything else. Skin soothing ingredients like shea butter, lanolin oil and mineral oil makes it unique in the chamois cream realm of what’s available, and it’s well worth hunting down an 8 ounce cow-spot covered tub of it. I’ve had a hard time finding a bike shop that stocks it regularly, though a lot of them can special order it for you. Or you can just get your eight bucks together and order it yourself at udderlysmooth.com.
1/05/2008
Moments on a Bike
Sharp turn. Going fast. Downhill. Tread breaks free. The sensation of the disconnection shoots up through the bike, then through the entire body. Heartbeat so hard it feels like a sucker punch from the inside. It happens so fast the brain isn’t even given a chance to get itself involved. In a moment of time so minuscule it’s almost impossible to perceive, air forces itself out of the lungs, muscles let electric tension wash over but not into them, and the body decides to stay loose. The body finds itself in balance over the bike. It’s the millisecond of time in which you decide whether or not you’re going to eat shit.
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