Things can always get worse.
Monday felt like a shitty day. The prototype for bad days. The mother of all bad days. The day by which bad days are measured. The kind of day that little annoying days hope to be when they grow up and become serial-killer days.
It was the kind of day that starts with wading through cold, knee-deep floodwaters on the way to work. The kind of day that ends with a bike commuter driving to the office at 7 p.m. to retrieve the bike and gear that had to be abandoned at noon because of unforeseen emergencies that led to hours of expensive and fruitless frustration.
Yes, brother and sisters, it was the kind of day that leads to an evening on which you want to do nothing but pull the car in the garage, lock the doors and pour the wine.
But you’re a bicyclist and you own a roof rack. Your day can get worse.
Sadly, a loud crunching sound above your head is a sign that you are not about to pull the car in the garage, lock the doors and pour the wine. You’re about to back the front end of your car out of the garage as you realize that if you needed a glass of wine a few minutes ago, you're about to need a couple of large Camelbaks full o’ that shit.
Suspension forks just aren’t meant to bend at that angle. Roof-rack crossbars aren’t supposed to be V-shaped.
As hard as it can be, one must remember all that crap you hear about silver linings. Ten-year-old Rock Shox forks are overdue for replacement anyway. Beloved, 10-year-old M2 Stumpjumper frames are as bombproof today as they were a decade ago (especially if they get a little energy-absorbing help from a dying fork and a collapsing cross bar).
When Jon at Paramount Cycles makes you a good deal on new fork, that helps, too.
And—maybe best of all—your favorite bike wasn’t on the roof rack that day.