Even Cyclists Have Bad Days: Stories from the Saddle I’d Rather Forget

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Even Cyclists Have Bad Days: Tales from the Two-Wheeled Underworld

Most days on the bike feel like magic.
Wind at your back, legs spinning, sun glinting off your handlebars — you know, the kind of ride that makes you feel like you could keep pedaling forever.

And then there are those days.

The ones where it feels like your bike made a deal with the devil, and you’re just along for the punishment.

Trust me, I’ve had more than my share.
Let me take you on a little tour through the two-wheeled underworld — where flats multiply, storms chase you, and yes, even slugs take their revenge.

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Exhibit A: The Chain Incident of ’22

It was just a simple Sunday ride — one of those “easy recovery” days where you tell yourself you’re going to spin gently and maybe stop for a cinnamon roll.

About 20 miles in, my chain decided to stage a full-blown rebellion.

One second I’m pedaling; the next, I’m standing roadside like a stork in Lycra, chain wrapped around my crank like it was auditioning for Cirque du Soleil.

Eventually got it back on — but not before a jogger passed me twice and offered to “call someone.”

Thanks, buddy.

Pro tip: Always carry a multi-tool. And maybe a little dignity.

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Exhibit B: Storm Chased Me Through the Panhandle

Texas weather is a liar.
It’ll hand you a perfect forecast at 8 a.m. and unleash biblical fury by noon.

I once found myself caught on an open stretch of road between New Deal and Abernathy, watching a thunderhead build like something out of a Spielberg movie.

By the time I realized I wasn’t going to outrun it, I was soaked, squishing in my shoes, glasses fogged, and wondering if this counted as an immersive baptism.

A guy in a pickup slowed down, shook his head, and said,
“You picked a hell of a day.”

Pro tip: If it looks like rain in West Texas, it probably is.

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Exhibit C: Roadkill Roulette

Riding long miles teaches you to notice every crack in the pavement — and every creature that didn’t quite make it across.

I’ve rolled over flattened frogs, mysterious fur clumps, and once, what I’m pretty sure was a possum in a necktie.

But the worst?
Near Carlsbad, New Mexico — back when I lived there — I swerved to avoid a dead snake and hit a live one.

We both screamed.
Only one of us had pedals.

Yes, it was a rattlesnake. And yes, my heart rate doubled instantly.

Pro tip: Scan the road — not just for potholes, but for nature’s less charming surprises.

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Exhibit D: The Saddest Hotel Breakfast Ever

Not every ride ends in glory.

After 60 miles of headwinds on tour, I limped into a cheap motel: sunburned, soaked, and emotionally wrecked.

The next morning, I shuffled into the lobby for breakfast and found:

• One stale muffin

• A brown banana

• And orange juice so watered down it tasted like regret

I ate anyway.
Because that’s what cyclists do.
We suffer. We eat. We keep riding.

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The Real Lesson

Cycling gives more than it takes — most of the time.
But it’ll humble you, too. Chew you up, spit you into a ditch, teach you to laugh at your own bad luck, and remind you (usually through mud or blood) that not every ride is about speed or distance.

Some days, the win is just finishing.

Other days, it’s finding a clean gas station bathroom.

Either way, I keep riding.
Because even on the worst days, cycling still beats sitting in traffic with the windows rolled up, breathing someone else’s tailpipe.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with a tangled chain, a can of lube, and probably a few curse words.

Keep pedaling — the good days are worth the bad.

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