Steph Peters
Today was a very sad day, I took my first ever bike to the tip. The
builders arrive on 10 January to ransack half the house, so we have to clear
everything into the other half. Packing has to start with a good clearout
in a house inhabited by two lazy packrats. The Salvation Army collection
box is now stuffed full of 70's and 80's clothes DH and I no longer fit
into, the Oxfam book shop is about to double its stock and we made 3 trips
to the tip today.
My first bike was a Raleigh Arena, purchased by my then boyfriend, now
husband, as a present for my 20th birthday. He assumed I could ride a bike.
So did I. I got on this thing with drop bars and a cross bar, proved I
could ride it for 100 yards or so, then wobbled and fell off because I
didn't know how to stop. Learning was hampered because the bike was too big
for me, despite being the smallest size available; I couldn't then and still
can't, despite having grown 3cm, put both feet on the floor while straddling
the crossbar. Stopping required one foot flat, one tiptoe. Slowly I
graduated to being able to reach the gear lever on the downtube, and for one
exhausting week of commuting to university could change up but not down
again. Eventually I mastered the gears, but never braking from the hoods,
relying totally on the suicide levers. Slowly I built up confidence;
getting a rack and panniers instead of a rucksack was a big help. The day
eventually dawned when I wanted to go for a ride at a weekend and managed a
30 mile round trip and graduated to using toe clips.
On leaving university I stopped commuting by bike. It got used less and
less at weekends, until it was eventually donated to a friend's 12 year old
daughter. Later one of her boyfriends gave it a white paint job, but
neither of them thought to do any maintenance. I got it back when she
learnt to drive and I took up cycling again. New chain, new tyres and new
tubes and the bike was ready to go. My bum wasn't though; the first ride of
an entire mile was agony and it took a couple of weeks to break my bum in
again. Eventually I built up to an entire day out and got fit enough to go
on a cycling holiday. The hired mountain bike which actually fitted was a
revelation, and this led to the purchase of a Specialised Hard Rock, joining
the CTC, going on a 6 month tour and so on. In the meantime old faithful
Raleigh lurked in the cellar, only coming out for commutes to particularly
unsavoury places, on the basis that anything that ancient with drop bars
wouldn't be nicked. It never was, but the chain is rusty again due to lack
of use, the tyres and tubes have perished, the brakes are as hopeless as
they ever were, so it was time to say goodbye and take the bike to the tip.
--
Concentrate; put all your eggs in one basket, and watch that basket...
Andrew Carnegie
Steph Peters delete invalid from incm@sandbenders.demon.co.uk.invalid
Tatting, lace & stitching page <http://www.sandbenders.demon.co.uk/index.htm>
builders arrive on 10 January to ransack half the house, so we have to clear
everything into the other half. Packing has to start with a good clearout
in a house inhabited by two lazy packrats. The Salvation Army collection
box is now stuffed full of 70's and 80's clothes DH and I no longer fit
into, the Oxfam book shop is about to double its stock and we made 3 trips
to the tip today.
My first bike was a Raleigh Arena, purchased by my then boyfriend, now
husband, as a present for my 20th birthday. He assumed I could ride a bike.
So did I. I got on this thing with drop bars and a cross bar, proved I
could ride it for 100 yards or so, then wobbled and fell off because I
didn't know how to stop. Learning was hampered because the bike was too big
for me, despite being the smallest size available; I couldn't then and still
can't, despite having grown 3cm, put both feet on the floor while straddling
the crossbar. Stopping required one foot flat, one tiptoe. Slowly I
graduated to being able to reach the gear lever on the downtube, and for one
exhausting week of commuting to university could change up but not down
again. Eventually I mastered the gears, but never braking from the hoods,
relying totally on the suicide levers. Slowly I built up confidence;
getting a rack and panniers instead of a rucksack was a big help. The day
eventually dawned when I wanted to go for a ride at a weekend and managed a
30 mile round trip and graduated to using toe clips.
On leaving university I stopped commuting by bike. It got used less and
less at weekends, until it was eventually donated to a friend's 12 year old
daughter. Later one of her boyfriends gave it a white paint job, but
neither of them thought to do any maintenance. I got it back when she
learnt to drive and I took up cycling again. New chain, new tyres and new
tubes and the bike was ready to go. My bum wasn't though; the first ride of
an entire mile was agony and it took a couple of weeks to break my bum in
again. Eventually I built up to an entire day out and got fit enough to go
on a cycling holiday. The hired mountain bike which actually fitted was a
revelation, and this led to the purchase of a Specialised Hard Rock, joining
the CTC, going on a 6 month tour and so on. In the meantime old faithful
Raleigh lurked in the cellar, only coming out for commutes to particularly
unsavoury places, on the basis that anything that ancient with drop bars
wouldn't be nicked. It never was, but the chain is rusty again due to lack
of use, the tyres and tubes have perished, the brakes are as hopeless as
they ever were, so it was time to say goodbye and take the bike to the tip.
--
Concentrate; put all your eggs in one basket, and watch that basket...
Andrew Carnegie
Steph Peters delete invalid from incm@sandbenders.demon.co.uk.invalid
Tatting, lace & stitching page <http://www.sandbenders.demon.co.uk/index.htm>
