One of the most astounding elements of a bunch ride is the ability of some people to avoid pulling a turn.

Due to recently becoming a father and attending a session on getting your baby to sleep on Saturday morning, I missed my normal ride and ventured out on an old Sunday favourite.

The 7.30am Sunday morning ride from the Bundoora Hotel to the top of Kinglake West is an institution in Melbourne’s northern suburbs.

It dates back to the 1960s when the Sansonetti brothers’ led the charge. I first braved this bunch ride, which when new to the sport seemed like a major journey into the mountains, in 1990.

Since this group ride began it has been clear where each two-abreast turn of pace begins and ends. Roundabouts may have been replaced with traffic lights but the system remains the same.

With limited time on the bike in recent months I thought I’d get a little sneaky and hide down the back at the start in the hope of getting an easy ride.

Unfortunately I wasn’t quite up to the task of avoiding sticking my nose in the wind. There were others who were far more adept at the fine art of sitting on.

Given there are six turns of pace between the starting point, at the Bundoora Hotel, and the top of Kinglake West and there was at least 20 pairs of riders in front of me, as we got going I started out feeling pretty pleased with myself and convinced I’d achieve the easy ride.

Then the plan started to fall apart.

Miraculously as people got closer to the front they had minor mechanical problems, with the most popular being the act of bouncing up and down on the saddle silently expressing they might have a puncture, requiring them to swing away from the front end of the group.

Then there’s the reality that someone with a mechanical problem can’t be left to their own devises, so three or four people disappear from in front of you to offer assistance to their mate.

Inevitably this results in an odd rider out. So rather than the rider with the gap in front of them moving forward to even things out again, the odd rider always seemed to take the opportunity to disappear to the back of the group. And again you find yourself closer to the front.

Somehow by turn number five I found myself in second wheel and destined to do the turn up the hill.

Chatting to the rider next to me, who I’d just met on the ride for the first time, I was mentally preparing to do my bit for the bunch as we approached the right-hander two kilometres before the climb up Kinglake West.

We rounded the corner and I found myself on the front. I then turned to my left to continue the conversation and, shock horror, I’m alone.

The guy I had been riding next to for the past 10 kilometres had disappeared. Fortunately an old mate with some sense of cycling etiquette came to keep me company at the front.

I then took the opportunity to take a look over the shoulder and assess the group. I’m sure you won’t be surprised to hear that the large majority of riders who had mechanical problems were still comfortably in the group.

The mechanical problems or punctures had come good between nearly being at the front and by the time they found themselves out of the wind at the back.

Luckily I was able to block the road on the climb and set my own pace as the group took pity on me and didn’t launch any grand attacks.

So I’ve come to the simple conclusion, to avoid the mental anguish and disappointment of not achieving my goals, that I’ll just pull some turns from the start next time.

What about you, how do you handle these situations?