About 50 miles into a week-long, 400-mile bicycle ride with my brother last week my right pedal fell off.
My brother Tim and I were riding over Sylvan Pass in Yellowstone National Park when the disaster struck. I looked at the pedal and the crank and wondered if our trip was over before it had hardly begun. The threads were mostly stripped.
“That’s a problem,” Tim said in his typically understated manner.
For the past few months, Tim and I had been planning what is becoming an annual summer event. We pick a week-long ride somewhere we’ve never been and ride and camp out. Last year we rode through British Columbia. We wanted to return to Canada for B.C. Part Deux, but some silly killer pandemic nixed those dreams. Our second choice was an Oregon Coast/Cascades trip, but that pandemic thing shot us down again with all the coast biker