diff --git a/content/post/when-the-derailleur-died/index.md b/content/post/when-the-derailleur-died/index.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4a9ac57 --- /dev/null +++ b/content/post/when-the-derailleur-died/index.md @@ -0,0 +1,99 @@ ++++ +title = "When the Derailleur Died, I Dreamed of Rohloff" +date = 2025-05-07 +categories = ["Stories"] +tags = ["rohloff", "bikepacking", "sach pass", "gear failure", "touring india"] +slug = "when-the-derailleur-died" +image = "broken-derailleur-hero.webp" +description = "A reflective journey through mechanical failure, high mountain silence, and the promise of a Rohloff future — where gear fades and grit remains." +keywords = ["Rohloff hub India", "bikepacking gear failure", "touring derailleur broken", "Sach Pass cycling", "internal hub vs derailleur"] +draft = true ++++ + +Somewhere near **Sach Pass**, the derailleur cracked. + +Not a clean snap. Not a heroic shatter. Just… cracked. Bent out of line like a tired argument. I heard it before I saw it — the chain rasping like an old man’s cough, the gears gasping through mud that felt like memory. + +This was Day 3 of a trip that was meant to last 12. + +I remember standing there, one foot in slush, one still clipped in, staring at a derailleur that looked as confused as I felt. Behind me, a trail of good intentions. Ahead, nothing but gravel and altitude. And above — the silence of mountains that didn’t care. + +--- + +I’ve had mechanical failures before. Punctures, snapped cables, the occasional bottom bracket mutiny. But this was different. + +This was final. + +--- + +We limped to a dhaba that night. Me, dragging the wounded bike. My friends — half-concerned, half-whispering to each other about Plan B. I didn’t blame them. I’d have done the same. + +The fire was warm. The dal, forgettable. The silence — loud. + +And that’s when it hit me: this wasn’t a failure. This was a lesson. An unscheduled pause. + +--- + +We build our rides on dreams — gradients, gear ratios, GoPro edits — but the ride has its own ideas. The mountains don’t read our itineraries. + +They simply wait. +And then, when you're not listening, they teach. + +--- + +That night, wrapped in dusty wool and disappointment, I had a dream. In it, there was a hub — silent, sealed, like a secret. No derailleur. No exposed wires. No promises to break. + +Just [**Rohloff**](https://www.rohloff.de/en/). + +--- + +Rohloff isn't a bike part. It’s a state of mind. +It says: *Plan less. Worry less. Keep going.* +It says: *Build it once. Build it right. Ride into storms without apology.* + +I woke up and wrote one word on my phone: **enough**. + +--- + +Enough derailleur tension and micro-adjusting barrel nuts in snowfall. + +Enough sticking my fingers into greasy jockey wheels like I’m diffusing a bomb in zero-degree windchill. + +Enough treating fragility like a feature. + +--- + +I didn’t ride the rest of the route. But I listened. I watched how the locals fixed a snapped clutch cable on a Hero Honda using wire from a fence post. I watched how they didn’t curse or panic. Just fixed, shrugged, laughed. + +They knew something I didn’t. + +--- + +Back in Chandigarh, I didn’t scroll through bikeporn or rant on forums. I just… waited. +Waited for the idea to settle. +For the dust to clear. +For the **Rohloff** to arrive. + +And now it’s here. + +Box fresh, but spiritually ancient. A hub designed not for speed, but for peace of mind. + +--- + +I don’t think the derailleur *failed*. +I think it bowed out. +Like a tired actor after a final scene. +Its job was done. + +It took me to the moment where something else could begin. + +--- + +So here's to that broken ride. +To the trip that didn’t go to plan. +To the silence of Sach. +To the first time I listened, really listened, to what the ride was saying. + +--- + +*Next time, we ride Rohloff.*