The Squeak

The squeak can only be compared to what I can imagine of the torment of Tinnitus might give a person. But the squeak my bike vocalised for nearly 2 days nearly drove me to insanity.

Imagine a beautiful scenic ride with a constant squeak, not quite rhythmic (I could of probably dealt with that) seemingly random with no clearly discernable source. Every few hundred meters I would stop and tighten and loosen every screw in the location of the squeak. My bicycle multi tool finding a new permanent and prime position in place of my wallet.

Through experimentation I try to figure out if it is related to temperature, weight distribution or certain movements. For a moment it would disappear following some handy work but then it would creep back into consciousness like a second wave 3.00pm hangover. Resorting to the Han Solo approach of kicking it being my last desperate attempt to solve the problem.

Then, as if by magic with the same mystery that the problem arose it just disappeared for no reason. In my inability to understand and reason the problem the simple excusable notion of mystical forces or bad karma for an insect road kill being the only logical explanation for the occurrence of the squeak.

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2 Responses to The Squeak

  1. […] I paid the price an hour or so later with the return of the squeak. […]

  2. Giles says:

    The most infuriating squeak I ever endured turned out to be a single unlubricated link in the chain which would, once in a blue moon, squeak when going around the derailler cogs.

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