It is not often that one takes the time to make any small adjustments on a machine while said machine is in use. Surely it would be ridiculous for a pilot to work on the plane in flight for a mechanic to work on a car that was already rolling on the road. That being the case this was needed to get the carbon steed up and running in its usually comfortable, fast, and efficient state. It had been at least a week since the last time the carbon steed set foot on the asphalt. Since the incident of the adjustment screw for the seat post breaking in the seat post collar the bike has been regulated to little more than decoration. The screw was removed from the original collar, two new collars had been purchased as well as three new screws, all to ensure that the bike would not be stabled for to long should any one item fail again. Hanging from the horn of the saddle the bike rests in the window like a sad puppy waiting the time to be right where it would ride again.
Today would be that day. As soon as the clock struck the close of business hour, I reached for the bike and my kit, and rushed to get outside. The cool bright sky and calm clear streets promised a some what safe ride, as had been done in the past. After locking the door, tossing my backpack with tools, supplies for every thing that could go wrong over my shoulder, a clip of my helmet under my chin and locking my shoe in to the pedals, the bike and I were off and heading to the top of the block from our small cul de sac. Immediately, the comfort and precision of the bike was noticed as missing. My legs felt stretched and over extended as I pedaled. While the wheels spun at a higher than normal speed for this gradiant, the excitement of the speed, was being dimmed by the position and the forced accommodations that I needed to remain wheel side down. Half way between the traffic light and the middle of the block I dismounted. If my legs were over extended, obviously, that meant that the saddle was to high. A simple adjustment to lower the seat post would get the bike feeling like it was ready for the road. In pulling out the multitool from my top tube bag, I started to have flash backs. This was exactly how I ended up, breaking the screw in the seat collar the first time around, making this very adjustment, on the road. The only difference being that this time I was less than a mile from my front door. Should the screw break again, this time I can hurry home, get a replacement collar and screw, to be on the road in a matter of minutes. It stood to reason that the risk was minimal and the reward was worth it. Multitool in hand, I carefully turned the screw to loosen the seat post, lowered the saddle and gently counter rotated it to lock the post back in place. A sharp pat on the saddle to ensure that it was secure, and I was ready to get back on the bike and pedal again.
Now that the seat was lower, the bike should have ‘felt’ better, yet something was lacking. I was no longer over extending my legs to pedal but now I was sliding forward on the saddle with every pedal stroke. At first, I reasoned that the saddle was now to low and my body was attempting to adjust to the new height. Climbing steep gradients, flying down rolling hills, coasting along flats or waiting at stop lights, I was sliding forward. The movement was not as sudden as to warrant a seat height adjustment now. No, this was something different. Something other than the seat height. The only thing that hand changed on this bike since the last time it was ridden on a century ride last year was the seat post, wasn’t it? I couldn’t remember if the seat post was updated before the century or after. In either case, I rationalized, the bike was fine before the collar was replaced. The only adjustment I should attempt to make is a height adjustment. The logic was sound. The reasoning made sense. I was still sliding forward on the saddle. The more I pedaled the I noticed that now there as a bit in my palms where my hands made contact with the handle bars. I am sliding forward, no over extended feelings in my legs, and now my palms were feeling a sharp pain. Clearly the issue was the saddle, but the only adjustment that I could make was to the saddle height.
I reached down, nervously holding my balance, under the saddle to feel if there were two screws holding the saddle on to the seat post or just one. If memory served one would be preferred as it is only one adjustment to make. In my mind the one adjustment would be less likely to break something. My fingers ran over two screws. My shoulders sank. Two screws means that there is a higher chance that I cause some damage or worse have a long walk home should one of them break during the adjustment. What was worse was now I was no longer in a quiet neighborhood road, I was on a fast double lane country way with speeding cars, trucks tractors and semi’s. The more I pedaled the more the bite grew and the strain on my arm was developing. Should the bite from my palms extend to my shoulders, the temptation to end the ride early would hold merit.
I made it to the top of a bridge that allowed trains to pass underneath. Grabbing the multitool from the top tube bag, I leaned over the bike, resting my chest on the saddle for support and allow my eyes to see what I was doing. For such a simple adjustment, in the moment I was encapsulated by fear. I didn’t have the slightest clue as to what I was doing, only what I wanted to address. I reasoned that if I am sliding forward, my hands are hurting, and my arms are starting to bite then perhaps the back of the saddle needs to be lowered. In a one screw setup this would be simple, adjust one screw and call it a day. In this setup I would have to loosen the screw in the front of the saddle and tighten the screw in the back. Flashbacks of having to walk that long walk home caused my bow to moisten. Gently I turned the back front screw three one quarter turns to loosen it. Just a bit, micro adjustments, tiny movements. If something breaks, snaps or pops off, from where I am I can see it, and feel it. That was my thinking. Using the same care and steady hands, I tightened the back screw, three one quarter turns. Was three enough, would it be enough? I couldn’t stop seeing my self calling a cab, or an uber to get home. The embarrassment of getting out of a car with a bike that has a broken seat post or a broken screw would be overwhelming. I stood up, locking the multitool away in my top tube bag and examined the saddle. From all accounts and angles it looked the same. I could not see any difference in the position. It was not until I tossed a leg over the top tube that the result appeared.
The saddle covered my position like a warm glove that was just slightly mis aligned. I no longer felt the bite in my arms growing an the pain in my palms was driven dull. It was like a I was on a completely different bike. My shoes clipped in and my eyes locked forward, I was able to push the pedals with a minor fraction of the discomfort that I had at the beginning. Across the straights, down the flats, darting around the rolling hills, flashing through traffic like a motorcar on rails and slipping through the wind like paper with a purpose the bike and I made quick work of the rest of the road. The spots where I would want to stop and take a break, get a snack, drink some water or take some photos came an went. The wind in my ears and the sun to my back, we sailed off up one massive hill and back down to the valley where this ride started.
When I arrived home, I loaded the bike back in to the stand. It was no longer a piece of decoration or art. It had earned its place back in my stable, and my trust. Sure it wasn’t perfect. I didn’t break any records, set and titles, win any races or earn any trophies. What I did do was get a bike that had failed me once back on the road and back in adjustment for me and only me. It was good to have it back, ready for the road. It would be even better to have it on the rides that will be coming ahead. Hopefully I can use this knowledge of the adjustments and how to make them to help someone else in the future. If not, it is always good to know.