It's not a sound I'm eager to hear again anytime soon - the wrenching of a bike rack from the roof of a Subaru Outback.
It all happened so quickly, so innocently, really. My partner and I were returning from a 2,000-kilometre journey through B.C. We had just commented on how reliably the 10-year-old vehicle performed. We were entering the parking garage when she made a point of saying to me, "Remember the bikes. Do we have clearance?"
"Of course we do," I replied. "There's three and a half metres, and we're less than three."
We had measured. We were careful.
We made it past the first gate with loads of room to spare. We got to the security gate and waited for it to rise and then proceeded carefully, cautiously. I mean, that's just the way we are.
Suddenly, there was a thud followed by a clang and then a cacophony of screeching and rumbling. It was god-awful. It was the sound of a bicycle - my cherished mountain bike - being used as a rope in a tug-of-war between a Subaru and a metal security door. My bike and the Subaru were the clear losers. The door rose to its maximum height (three and a half metres, apparently) in victory. Then, as a final indignity, it unceremoniously dropped the bikes, and the rack that they were attached to, onto the roof of the car.
I was devastated. There we stood, my bike destroyed, my partner's car damaged and my ego in tatters. I turned and looked at her and was about to beg forgiveness when she started laughing. Not a chuckle or a snicker, but a deep, sustained howl of laughter. It seemed to go on and on and with each guffaw, I felt more and more the fool.
I grew a little miffed after a while; my initial thought was that I was being mocked. I mean, I was the one driving and it was I who confidently drove into the door. Was she really being so callous, so dismissive of my injured pride? The look on my face, I guess, conveyed my hurt.
"Don't worry about it, so many worse things could have happened," she said. "It's just so funny that we got to within 10 metres of the end of our trip without incident and then this. I guess it's true that most accidents happen close to home."
The reality is that we weren't hurt and although there'd be some inconvenience, it wasn't so bad. There was no heart attack or cougar attack, just a rack attack. No one was hurt and there's nothing that can't be repaired or replaced. It's for reasons like this, after all, that we pay for insurance year-in and year-out.
Anyway, we're in the market for a new bike rack. This time, I think, we'll be looking for one that mounts on the back of the vehicle.
