Brilliant Christmas Present.

One of the great things I got for Christmas was a series of cycle manufacturers' adverts from a 1920s cycling magazine.  Enjoy them.

(If you click on them they become bigger)

Vicious Cycle.

You may remember the day that Briony's new bicycle arrived.  As we established, it's isn't really hers, it's mine.  It is now called Briony's Bike as a tribute to her panic and confusion.  It's a late 70s / early 80s Peugeot Carbolite that's been restored and converted from a multi-geared bike to a single-speed one.  It arrived partly done, it had been stripped down and resprayed, it had new wheels and brakes.  It still needed a fair bit of work to get it to the spec I wanted though.  I have toiled for the last few weeks in the bicycle workshop/kitchen.  It's finally ready to ride.

I shall be riding it with a fixed gear, which means that you can't coast: if you pedal forwards, the bike goes forwards; if you pedal backwards, the bike goes backwards; if you take your feet off the pedals going downhill, they continue to go round; if you get anything trapped between the chain and the chain-ring, you lose it - there are lots of gory pictures of that on the internet.

I've never ridden a fixed-gear bike (a fixie) before, so I'm rather looking forward to taking it out tomorrow.  It occurred to me that it might be difficult to mount as you can't spin the pedals to where you want them while the wheels are on the ground, so I've done some research and found these instructions (written by Greg Goode at this great site, http://www.63xc.com/) on how to mount a fixie and start pedalling.

The Handlebar Mount

Of course you can mount a fixed any way you like. But most people riding fixed don't use the traditional mount, where you swing the leg up and back over the saddle. Instead, they use the much cooler handlebar mount. They sweep their leg in a quick movement up in front, over the handlebars and back down to the pedal on the opposite side. This method is faster and smoother than the traditional mounting method. It evolved on track bikes, where the bars are a good deal lower than the saddle--and there are no brake cables to foul you up!

The entire mount takes about a half a second. The steps take much more time to read and grok! I've assumed mounting from the left (L) of the bike. If you mount from the right (R), then just switch the Ls and Rs.

It's good to practice rocking the bike. This is not absolutely necessary, so you can skip the next section if you wish. But if you get it down, rocking will help make your mounts and dismounts much smoother and faster.

Rocking The Bike

Rocking is a side-to-side motion that makes your mounts and dismounts smoother and more fluid. To rock the bike, stand to the L side of the bike. Orient your body so that your R hip is square on to the bike (or at a 45 degree angle). Hold the L handlebar in your L hand, and the stem in your R hand. Let your L hand go. With your R hand on the stem as a guide, let the bike fall about 10 or 15 degrees away from you, towards the bike's R. Now, with your R hand, gently throw the bike back towards your L hand, which will catch the bike's L handlebar. The handlebars and stem (saddle and everything else too) will sway L-to-R and R-to-L through an arc of maybe 15-20 degrees. Practice this gentle toss-and-catch movement back and forth, catching the stem with your R hand and handlebar with your L.

You'll use the rocking-toward motion in mounts, and the rocking-away motion in dismounts.

NOTE: The best spot to grab the L handlebar is on the 'flat', between the stem and the beginning of the curve. This grip makes it easier to keep the front wheel straight as you push the bike to the R.

Mounting The Bike

1. Holding the bike by the handlebar and saddle, lift the rear wheel off the ground. Give the L pedal a gentle kick to rotate the pedals until they are at 3o'clock/9o'clock, the R pedal towards the front wheel and the L pedal towards the rear wheel. Place the rear wheel back on the ground, and re-grip the bike, with your L hand on the L handlebar and your R hand on the stem.

2. Keep that grip with your hands, and orient your R hip towards the top tube. There should be about 8-12 inches between your belly button and the handlebars.

3. Let your L hand go and let the bike sway away from you, guided by your R hand on the stem.

4. Toss the bike back towards you with your R hand, and at the same time raise your R leg up and swing it over the handlebars. As your leg passes over to the right, the bike passes under to the L.

5. At the instant that your L hand catches the bars, your R foot reaches the R pedal. (Clip in if you like, but it might be safer to save it until you've practiced dismounting.)

6. Place your weight on the R pedal, using it to lever your butt into the saddle. Push forward with the R pedal and catch the L pedal with your L foot.

7. Congratulations, you've just mounted your fixed! Time for a quick victory circuit. Now you need the next section, which is all about dismounting.

Er...HELP!

Call A Cycleogist.

I like cycling.  I find that riding a bicycle is a carefree and fun experience.  It's a liberating and refreshing feeling, to leave the baggage of day to day life behind (both physical and emotional) and concentrate on a simple activity.

When cycling I carry three things; a phone (for emergencies), the house keys (for domestic access purposes) and some cash (for emergencies or beverages).  I know that some cyclists carry a few more things than I do, my friend Bees carries a puncture repair kit, for example, and my friend Brad carries a pie (probably).

Today I got a puncture; fortunately I got home before the tyre deflated.  So this evening I looked at an online cycling forum to see if anyone could recommend a puncture repair kit.  In the thread I was looking at, one rider stated that in addition to carrying a puncture repair kit when he rode, he also carried a spare inner tube.  The next man posted this response:


I carry this :-

1 P*ncture repair kit
1 allan keys
1 set of tyre levers + 2 spare
3 inner tubes
Folding tyre
Tyre patches
1 small head torch in winter
marigold gloves
Small length of chain (3 inches)
1 small chain tool
Cassette tool and chain whip
Spare spokes
Kevlar spoke
hypercracker
Spare nuts, bolts, powerlinks
Wire cutters
Pliers
2 small screw drivers
Small sockets to fit screw driver handle
First aid kit with triangular bandage paracetamol, co-codamol, gaviscon tablets
Batteries for rear light and computer and bulbs
Small tyre pump (not mini)
1 Co2 pump
Zip ties
spare keys for house, bike locks
Phone
Pen and paper
10 sheets of kitchen roll
Very small bottle of hand cleaner
Insulation tape
£5 in small change
Small roll of gaffer tape
Brake and gear cables
Spare bite valve for camalbac
Small roll string
Spare gloves

I find almost every item on this list baffling, it raises more questions than I could possibly go into here, I'll limit myself to one query.

Marigold gloves + spare gloves (non-Marigold)?  That's six gloves!  That's too many.  What are the Marigold gloves for anyway?  I've encountered many things when cycling; cows, horses, badly driven cars, fallen trees.  What I've never encountered is the washing up.  Not even a couple of spoons and a bowl. Never.

If you wish to query any of the other items on the list, please do so via the comments section.

A Box.

"It's very nice of you darling.  It's a lovely thought," she said, and kissed me on the top of my head.

No, I didn't know what those words meant when they were spoken to me at 7:20am either.  I grunted, to acknowledge receipt of the words, and buried my head under the duvet.  I heard the front door close as she left for work about a minute later.  I returned to sleep.

I stumbled down the stairs about an hour later, yawning and rubbing my eyes. On arrival at the bottom of the stairs I encountered this box standing in the hallway, just inside the front door.  The name and address on the label were mine.

I became tremendously excited, my new bike had arrived!  Well, new to me, it's actually quite an old bike.

No matter what age you are, I thought, there's nothing more exciting than receiving a new bicycle.  I considered this for a short while and realised that there was probably one thing more exciting than receiving a new bicycle -  receiving a new bicycle that you weren't expecting.

I sauntered off to the kitchen for coffee.  As I drank I puzzled over the enigmatic phrase that I'd half heard earlier.  "It's a lovely thought", "It's very nice of you".  What could those words refer to?  Had I dreamt them?  How could she know what I was thinking?

When I finished my coffee a few minutes later I was no wiser.  I returned to the exciting package.  Despite being an old bicycle, the sender had managed to find an almost new cycle box to pack it in.  Large and prominent logos were emblazoned over it.  It was clearly from the well known cycle manufacturer Trek.  I made my way round to the front of the box.  It was there that I found this label.

Suddenly it all became clear.  I may have some explaining to do this evening.

Rodent!

That's a capybara, a giant South American rodent. They can grow as long as 1.3 metres and weigh up to 65 kilograms. They have teeth.

In conversation earlier, my wife informed me that there had been sightings of these creatures living wild in Britain. I was disturbed by this information; I really don't need another animal to fear while cycling.

There is no need to become hysterical. The solution came to me quite quickly. What we need is a large owl.

Testing my new cycling wardrobe.

I've just finished my evening cycle ride. Just a short one, only twelve miles, it's my regular route. It's part of National Cycle Route number 65, it takes me away from York city centre along the riverside and quickly out into the countryside, through fields full of cows, woods, past poppy fields, through the pretty village of Overton and over the York to Edinburgh railway line. The top of the railway bridge is the six mile point, so when I reach it, I turn round and head for home.

It's a quiet and mostly rural cycle ride, for the most part along a narrow cycle track. The mooing of cows, birdsong, and occasionally the distant sound of a shotgun are the soundtrack to my ride. So it came as little surprise this evening when I encountered a man, out walking with his young son and his dog, with a shotgun case slung over his shoulder. The son saw my approach, alerted his father, and they moved to the right of the track to let me pass. I slowed down, overtook them, thanked them and continued on my ride, reaching the halfway point a little under three miles later.

I turned around and rode hard along the homeward leg. My speed topped out at 26 mph this evening, not bad for someone on a hybrid cycle which has a very un-aerodynamic riding position. My speed was helped in part by my clip-less pedals, a system which locks your shoes into the pedals which is bad for low speed manoeuvrability, but good for propelling the bike along quickly and efficiently.

I soon found that I was approaching the man carrying the shotgun and his son again, coming up behind them at quite a pace. I decelerated and flicked down through the gears. The son heard this, and moved over to the right. The father also started moving over to the right, leaving a bike sized space to his left. I was going slowly by this point, not more than 8 mph, and began to coast along on the left side of the track. When I was about six feet behind the man he suddenly moved to the left, blocking the cycle lane. There was no time to brake so avoidance was my only option, I aimed my bike at the long grass to the left of the cycle lane. The front wheel hit the long grass and I soon discovered that the grass was covering a hole with a diameter large enough to accommodate a bicycle wheel to a depth of about seven inches. The front wheel plunged into the hole and I, with my weight transferred over to the right to try to regain the cycle lane, was pitched over the handlebars and to the right, still locked in to the pedals.

At this point the man with the shotgun became aware of my presence. He seemed surprised to discover an upside down man on his bicycle soaring toward him. He gasped, and then we collided. Somehow the back of my right shoulder hit him hard in the middle of his left arm, sending him sprawling to the floor, which is where my bicycle and I landed on him.

There was a bit of an awkward silence, as we both tried to determine whether our limbs were intact and while I wondered exactly what the etiquette of the situation was. I didn't feel any pain and the collision had wrenched my feet free of the pedals, so I rolled off the man with the shotgun, and put my bike to one side. I stood up and at the same time nervously enquired "are you okay?"

The man sat up, feeling his left arm, "Yes, I think so. Are you alright?"

"Fine", I replied, " I had a soft landing." (I know, I can't help it).

I helped the man to his feet. At this point the small boy burst into tears. This may have saved my life. To placate him, the man with the shotgun and I both made a great display of bonhomie, I was so affable that I even befriended the dog. We chatted for a bit, established that there were no injuries, and having cheered up his son, we continued on our respective journeys.

Only I could go to the middle of nowhere and ride my bicycle into with a man with a gun. I'm now considering fitting a bell.