I almost crashed into a canal because of the thumb loops on my jacket – I'm glad cycling brands don't make them like this anymore

This article is part of a series called ‘A love letter to…’ where Cycling Weekly writers (usually) pour praise on their favourite cycling items and share the personal connection they have with them. In this case, our writer decided to take a more cynical stance, penning a 'break-up letter' to sleeves with thumb loops.

It surprises me that after nearly three decades as a cyclist, and almost half of that time working in the industry, I can still experience cycling firsts. Unfortunately, this time it wasn't a race win.

Recently, a piece of cycling attire nearly caused one of my worst crashes. Let me explain.

I’ve spent years explaining why thumb loops on cycling jerseys and jackets are a bad idea. It's clear that a lasso of fabric around your thumb is misguided; as one of only three contact points with your bike, why make your hands uncomfortable and risk fabric friction blistering between your thumb and forefinger?

After all, as Muhammad Ali said: "It isn't the mountains ahead to climb that wear you out; it's the little pebble in your shoe". Or, in this case, a loop of fabric rubbing against your thenar web.

Clearly, I'm not the only one who dislikes thumb holes in long-sleeved tops. The design has fallen out of favour over the past few years, and with the advent of better fabric technology, superior construction methods now ensure a secure seal between gloves and wrists while riding.

However, as a firm believer in wear and repair before replacement, I still have a lot of kit dating back to the thumb-loop era. Generally, I have ignored the invitation to insert my digit – until one day I didn't.

Under the late-winter sun one morning, standing astride my bike, I faced a last-minute wardrobe dilemma. It was cooler than expected, and due to the downhill start, I decided to pop on the old just-in-case rain jacket that I had stowed in my rear pocket to act as a windbreaker.

I put on the jacket, placed my thumbs through the loops, and in a move that almost proved disastrous, pulled my gloves on over the top. Five miles into the ride, I was toasty and ready to remove the jacket. A benign act, you might think, until I got stuck.

Riding no-handed, as I peeled the jacket off my shoulders, turning the sleeves inside out, I had forgotten that I had secured my gloves around my wrists with Velcro. The thumb loops were caught underneath. I was effectively tied behind my back, and began to panic. I don't think it an exaggeration to say that my life flashed before me.

Like some cycling parody of the 1994 film Speed, I was now compelled to keep riding at a pace that kept me upright. I was on a narrow canal towpath, flanked by a wall on my left, and icy water to my right, into which a single wheel wobble might see me submerged. A soft landing, perhaps, but my feet were clipped into the pedals, and my hands effectively in handcuffs behind me.

I concluded that my only option was to contort myself enough to hope to grab my back brake.

Testing my core muscles, I managed to wriggle my left arm and hand forward enough to halt my runaway bike and unclip my left foot centimetres from the canal.

Visibly shaking and now standing beside my bike, I had to rely on my riding buddy to untangle me from the knot.

What's the morale of the story? There isn't one, really. But as my cortisone levels and heart rate returned to normal, I decided thumb loops were no longer something I disliked – I hated them.

So good riddance to the worst design in riding kit. May they never cross our cycling paths again. And if you do have some old kit left in the drawer, heed my warning: never use the thumb loops.