“HOLE!” BANG. f*ck! That was the sound of my first big ride of 2026 ending prematurely on Sunday, as I cycled straight into a pothole, the kind that’s big enough that you would not drive through in an SUV, let alone attempt to tackle with 28mm tyres. Think the Mariana Trench, but on a quiet road in south-west England.
There was a moment, a brief moment, when I thought I was lucky just to suffer a flat tyre. But closer inspection revealed my poor front wheel had taken the brunt of the impact; the rim was cracked, and made ominous sounds when I squeezed it. This is very much not the fault of Hunt Wheels, as no carbon rim should be subject to such sudden pressure, but instead my fault for not going round the crater, and Wiltshire County Council for not repairing the road; and mankind, I suppose, for speeding up climate change.
Wheel broken, ride cut short, I had a lot of time to ruminate on my predicament. My friends – riding partners for two-thirds of my second-ever Audax, a 120km run out of Bristol and back – cycled on, with my blessing. There was nothing they could do. At the furthest point of the ride from home, in the middle of nowhere, waiting for a friend to pick me up; this is the reality of cycling just as much as those glorious sunny days on beautiful roads.
My pothole experience could have been a lot worse: a broken collarbone, a small fracture, concussion. Thankfully, my wheel took the impact, and I stayed upright, although I did sprain my wrist a bit. It is moments like this that really bring to mind the risk involved with riding a bike. Forget other vehicles and road users, you can be put in danger by the road surface itself. A moment of inattention could be life-changing. I suppose that’s part of the thrill of cycling sometimes, the danger, but I think we would all prefer to be able to ride on roads we can trust.
Potholes are a huge problem. They’re a political lightning rod, the proof of a creaking state, but also evidence of weather becoming more difficult to predict and to manage. Ever-bigger cars don’t help on British roads designed in a different time; it is hilariously ironic that those big cars are less in danger of issues from the potholes they make worse, while vulnerable road users like us bear the brunt of the danger.
However, potholes are boring too. Politicians probably get more letters about the poor state of the road than almost any other issue, but committing funding to them isn’t as headline-grabbing and exciting, like a new warship or 40 new hospitals. We tried to shift the dial with our very own war on potholes a few years ago, but things are only getting worse, not better. According to last year’s Annual Local Authority Road Maintenance survey, it would cost almost £17 billion to bring the UK’s roads up to “ideal” conditions.
That might seem improbable, but it also seems unsustainable and frankly outrageous that we as cyclists risk injury just from cycling along a road. Plus ça change, I suppose. Cyclists don’t matter.
The feeling of having a ride cut short, however, was what ultimately made me sad on Saturday. The wheel can be replaced, a new inner tube put in, I was picked up eventually. What can’t be recaptured is what felt like the first sunny day of the year, a chance for me to go on my longest bike ride in forever. The joy I had felt just moments before in feeling reasonably strong and good about cycling was taken away in an instance, a moment of not following the right line, a day ruined. It could have been a year ruined, already, but thankfully there were no fractures. I’d like 2026 to be fracture free.
A good day on the bike is invaluable, and I will remain bitter towards the local authority, the road, the weather, my inattention, for bringing my ride to a brutal end. An incident-free cycle surely isn’t too much to ask for. I suppose I should feel lucky to not be hurt, but if anyone wants to give me a new wheel and an opportunity for a lovely bike ride, I would be very grateful.
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If you want to get in touch with Adam, email adam.becket@futurenet.com.
