I used to have two bikes. A little blue cutie and a go fast pink one. Now I'm down to one. The Pink one. It's not a practical bike. 7.5kgs of unadulterated streamlined design. Made by a superpower with arsenals of weapons of mass destruction. It's not for pottering round town. Or learning to ride again after an accident. It cant be left locked to a railing. Or leant up against a shop window just for a minute. Its tiny rims are unforgiving. Its white flowery seat torture on an untrained bum. No mudguards or carriers. No chain guard. Not even a pretty little bell.
This pink bike has been hanging sadly on the wall for eight months. Two flat tyres, a split tube, grey dust on its carbon fibre forks. Until today that is. A long hobble to the bike shop. Handing over £18 for a new tyre. Hauling stuff out of cupboards to find tyre levers and pump. A generous pal putting it all together. And carrying it downstairs.
Riding the pink bike turns out to be the easiest part. Getting on and stopping is much more challenging. Drop handlebars and tiny peddles don't help. Cycling is technically banned on the Promenade. But an army of police officers wont get me onto the road. Not yet anyway. Especially since they are half the reason I'm in this predicament. Its quite enough contending with the prams, scooters, toddlers, dogs, and gangs of half dressed teenagers. I weave in and out of them, breathless with nerves.
Once past the ice cream crowds, we cycle sedately down to the end of the Promenade. Feels great. Normal even. Breeze in my hair (because of course I'm not wearing a helmet). I'd like to speed up but I'm terrified of falling and damaging my graft. My knee is fine. My foot hurts - but no more than usual. We stop at the end, rest a bit, gaze out to sea and return. Stopping is tricky. Pushing my weight through my right foot is uncomfortable and uncertain. Emergency stops clearly out of the question. Walking off the Prom with the bike for a few metres much more difficult than pedalling it.
So cycling, it appears, is going to be much easier than walking. Certainly in the medium term. I cant off course get a bike up and down the stairs myself. Nor can I cycle up anytihing steep. My nerves are still dodgy and there's the stop start thing. But still, I reckon I'll be pedalling to work by late Autumn. And maybe even on my go fast pink bike.
This pink bike has been hanging sadly on the wall for eight months. Two flat tyres, a split tube, grey dust on its carbon fibre forks. Until today that is. A long hobble to the bike shop. Handing over £18 for a new tyre. Hauling stuff out of cupboards to find tyre levers and pump. A generous pal putting it all together. And carrying it downstairs.
Riding the pink bike turns out to be the easiest part. Getting on and stopping is much more challenging. Drop handlebars and tiny peddles don't help. Cycling is technically banned on the Promenade. But an army of police officers wont get me onto the road. Not yet anyway. Especially since they are half the reason I'm in this predicament. Its quite enough contending with the prams, scooters, toddlers, dogs, and gangs of half dressed teenagers. I weave in and out of them, breathless with nerves.
Once past the ice cream crowds, we cycle sedately down to the end of the Promenade. Feels great. Normal even. Breeze in my hair (because of course I'm not wearing a helmet). I'd like to speed up but I'm terrified of falling and damaging my graft. My knee is fine. My foot hurts - but no more than usual. We stop at the end, rest a bit, gaze out to sea and return. Stopping is tricky. Pushing my weight through my right foot is uncomfortable and uncertain. Emergency stops clearly out of the question. Walking off the Prom with the bike for a few metres much more difficult than pedalling it.
So cycling, it appears, is going to be much easier than walking. Certainly in the medium term. I cant off course get a bike up and down the stairs myself. Nor can I cycle up anytihing steep. My nerves are still dodgy and there's the stop start thing. But still, I reckon I'll be pedalling to work by late Autumn. And maybe even on my go fast pink bike.
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