A Cycle Saddle Saga

Following on from my adventures with my saddle I finally managed to track down the hard-to-find M7 bolt at Stig Fasteners
Excellent service provided me with 2 M7 bolts. The first one bent and then the second one bent. Still using the second one and now have a saddle that flaps about as you sit on it.
With the garage all tidy (a big thank you to my other half) I realised I had two saddles just lying around. The shafts are too narrow but I figured I’d give them a try this week.
So Monday saw me cycling in on the first saddle I picked up. I couldn’t tighten it so it sat a little low but I could cope with that. As I peddled away, I noticed that it gradually shifted from being in the normal horizontalish position to a more unusual vertical one with the nose up in the air and my testicles being crushed into my thighs. Upon inspection, the saddle is attached to the shaft at the sides by toothed nuts which hold it in place. Unfortunately the teeth have worn with use and no longer do the holding. Suddenly every little bump became a potential landmine for manly pain. At what point in the design of this thing did somebody think it would be a benefit for a bicycle saddle to be even physically able to move to the vertical position?
Somehow, I survived Monday as the same gender I started it.
Tuesday’s saddle was a more robust, static affair with no discernible moving parts at all. Again I couldn’t tighten it and it sat a little lower than Monday’s offering.
I had barely lost sight of my house when discomfort kicked in. I shifted position several times and alternated between, bloody uncomfortable to that’s actually quite painful. Eventually I resorted to taking my sweatshirt off and using it as a cushion, purely as a means to keep my suffering low enough so my agonised screaming wouldn’t attract too much attention. My day at work was overshadowed by the thought that I’d have to sit on the bloody thing again for my homeward journey. This I managed and walked like John Wayne for the rest of the evening. It has to be the most uncomfortable and painful thing I have ever sat on that has supposedly been designed to be sat on. Again I think of the design process that must have gone into this instrument of torture, or, to be more precise, the testing stage of development – do they just check to see if the crash test dummy falls off? I know extended cycling can produce saddle sores, but we’re talking 20 minutes up the road here!
Today, I’m back on the original flappy saddle with the bent bolt – it’s cushioned (I’m still quite tender from yesterday) and I can fix it to a more appropriate height.
So much for that, then.

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