I love my winter bike ride!

It felt so good to get back on the bike this week. I Parked-and-Walked last Monday, but because of the heavy snow and my fear of driving in bad road conditions, I took the bus the rest of the week.

At 4:30 Sunday afternoon I looked at my bike and saw a flat tire. In my tire-tube box, I had tubes for every tire except the one that was flat, so I raced over to Canadian Tire (on foot) and bought a tube. Came back, changed the tube, used my new birthday bike pump to inflate it. Whew! Glad I saw the flat before the store closed! And thank you, CT, for carrying a wide selection of bike tubes even in the "off season."

Monday was a nice day and I resumed normal programming: drive into the west end, park my car and ride the last 7-8 km to downtown.

Nervous about the possibility of an icy descent into the ravine from Crestwood, I've been riding through the city instead of the River Valley. To say there was lots of snow would be an understatement.

I didn't think the roads and sidewalks could ever be worse than they were last winter, but guess what? Somehow the city workers have managed to outdo themselves:

try to ride through this to get onto the bridge!

a nice strip of ice on the other bridge

thank you, kind snow remover, for heaping the snow onto the sidewalk!

 

My Sherlock Holmes tendencies tell me that I am not the only winter bicycle commuter out there:

It always cheers me to see a multitude of tracks in the fresh snow. But it also raises the question: why does anyone doubt that people ride their bikes in the winter? 

How do they think those tracks get there?

Monday's ride, which involved a fair bit of walking anyway, ended abruptly at the 116 Street/100 Avenue intersection when my back rack came loose. I could tell that something was not right, so I stopped to check. The bolt holding the bracket in place had come apart and the rack was attached only by the wheel supports. 

I walked the remaining 9 blocks, carrying my pannier. 

Before beginning my walk, I had a fun encounter with a cute little guy on his way to school. He stopped, studied my bike and the recalcitrant rack, and said: "That's not going to stay on." I agreed. He studied my pannier. "Is that a backpack?" he asked in a bright, optimistic voice. I told him no, but at that moment I wished it was. He nodded sagely and continued to watch as I unhitched the pannier, assured him I didn't have far to go and started on my way. How sweet to have someone commiserate in my time of distress. I see a great future for that kid.

After work I stopped in at MEC and asked for emergency help. 

"You need a new rack," the bike shop guy told me. I was ready to do whatever would get me back on the road, so I told him to go ahead. "We can't do it today. We're booked up until next week."

My disappointed face must have had an impact, because he took another look.

"Well, maybe I can fix this," he said. I smiled pleadingly. He examined it more closely. "Yeah, sure, I can fix this," he continued. I smiled happily.

He fixed it. He didn't charge me. I was happy and would have whistled all the way back to the car except that I can't whistle.