As usual, Bill was driving like the devil, himself, was chasing us as we went north on I-25. We were headed to a mountain bike club ride in Poudre Canyon, in Bill's Honda, with is bike, mine and another on the roof rack. The front wheels were all clamped into wheel carriers alongside the frames.
Suddenly, Bill looked into the mirror and yelped in surprise. His front wheel had come loose from the carrier and ejected from the roof. It was now rolling along in heavy traffic, on its own, behind us.
Bill hit the brakes, and the wheel passed us, on the right. Bill accelerated, and followed along behind the wheel as it continued along the Interstate at 70 miles per hour. As the wheel slowed, Bill paced it, hoping to keep the cars behind us from running over it, when it finally fell over. We were busily trying to figure how to best recover it, if at all, when it finally stopped rolling.
And roll, it did, for what seemed like miles, never deviating form its straight line.. Eventually, as it slowed, the wheel started easing to the right. Slower and slower, more and more to the right until, amazingly, it rolled up against the Jersey Barrier on the edge of the road, and stopped, leaning up against the concrete.
Bill pulled over, stopped, then gunned the car back out into traffic as I grabbed his wheel.
It was another one of those things that made me wish I had brought the video camera.