I don’t like to ride with my cell phone. Just don’t like. My dislike is not due to a desire to break free of the world thing, there is a silence feature for that. See, I consider myself a suburban cycling hipster. As such, it is obvious that I prefer NOT to have a saddle bag (unlike this guy)
This means I would have to carry my iPhone 5 in my jersey pocket and that just won’t do. My iPhone 5 is too precious to be smashed against my sweaty back for 30 miles (I sweat A LOT), so I just go without it.
WELL, the downside of this concession to my hipster lifestyle is that I run the risk of being stranded on the road if something goes wrong. Which has happened….more than once. Broken chain, broken broken spoke, flat tire, all I have endured. Most of the time, I am able to jerry-rig the issue and limp home. On occasion though, I’ve had to hike-a-bike for as much as 3 miles. It is during these episodes that a cell phone would have been nice.
BUT, I know a secret that all cyclists know but few reveal. As much as there is a shared animosity between cyclists and drivers, in general random people are very helpful. More often than not, when I find myself dealing with a mechanical mishap a passing cyclist or even a motorist will stop or slow down to offer an assist. On one long hike-a-bike adventure 3 different cars stopped to offer me a ride (all women driving alone!!!). I declined all three and hold no illusions that it was my spandex covered thighs of steal that caused them to stop. On Tuesday however, rather than finish my walk of shame I did accept a ride. My neighbor happened to be passing and gave me a lift. I made him promise not to tell my wife. She is constantly nagging me to carry my phone (she just doesn’t GET the suburban hipster thing).
There may come a day (like today) that I decide to carry my phone. Most likely it will be to document for the world the life of a suburban cycling hipster. Most definitely NOT to call for help when I am stranded.