1st degree burns....

Bikes can be dangerous things.

I’ve fallen off them before of course; sometimes quite spectacularly. (Cycling ‘hands-free’ is an old trick. But cycling hands and legs free, as I ambitiously tried at the age of 12, can only end in disaster. I do not recommend it).

I’ve picked up aches and pains from bikes, unspeakable saddle sores and the occasional blister. I’ve even fallen off the saddle and landed astride the unforgiving, unyielding and unhelpfully placed crossbar which will not be forgotten for a few decades.  Bikes can be cruel like that.

But I’ve never been burnt by a bike before. In fact I wasn’t even sure it was possible. But I can now confirm that unfortunately it is.

Keen to get some tarmac under the wheels of the new bike, I took it for a gentle spin around the block. But my ‘block’ has a rather steep hill in it. As I flew down said hill, (thanks to gravity and a lifetime interest in beer and cheese – not though my own efforts) I instinctively stuck the brakes on.

Now the brakes on the new bike are disc brakes (bear with me, I’m not going to get all technical on you) but suffice to say, they are alleged to have the stopping power of a brick wall. One minute you’re doing 40mph, the next moment you feather the brakes and you’re nearly airborne over your handlebars…or something like that. (The manufactures sell it a little better).

But stopping is good. Especially when on a fully laden bike; as I will be once the trip gets underway. And in the rain, as I will be once the trip gets underway.

Well, the discs did their job. The bike and I came to a pretty sharp halt and I was still on the saddle; all good so far. But being the tedious tinkerer that I am, I want to fuss over the handlebars…so I got off the bike and placed the front wheel between my knees to steady the bike so I could get to work on whatever it was that was bothering me.  

Now some of you will be ahead of me and will know that disc brakes get very hot. The first time I cottoned on was when my calf started melting…as I branded myself on the newly-heated white hot disc. Leaping away and squealing like a prepubescent girl I looked down to see the remarkably precise imprint of the circular disc slowly smoking on my legs…the hair singed away and the skin turning first white, then pink, then red.  There was the faintest aroma of Sunday lunch.

It’s the kind of mistake you only make once.

If you can’t quite picture how a bike can burn you, I’ve snapped it for you . And you'll see how perfectly the disc brake on the right, matches the scar in the left hand picture....

It has now started to scab over…but it is now like a little crop circle.... like my own little cycling tattoo.  Hurty !