Re: cycling

Today the spring sunshine and the prospect of two week's holiday prompted me to get astride a bike. No big deal I hear you say but for me, it was a major feat. It's been more than two decades since my bottom graced [!?] a saddle so the bike and I took a minute or two to get acquainted. This was a freecycle bike and it was clearly used to a more experienced rider.
This saddle was meant for smaller, tighter butts. A real cyclist's butt. It decided to teach me a lesson. The bike speared me like a harpoon does a whale. It's hard to cycle whilst being impaled.
It's fair to say that my memories of cycling were somewhat rose tinted.
In days gone by I was photographed elegantly pedalling along the coast; hair flowing like a L'Oreal commercial, cool cheeked and bright eyed. A vision of composure and grace.

Today anyone daring to photograph my scarlet face, helmet hair and heaving chest would have met a sticky end. Actually perhaps not. I wasn't fit to speak, far less assault any passing papparazzi. I must have looked like an anti smoking campaign.

At one point I walked my bike up a steep hill [well, steep for me]and met with a withering look from a child on a trike. And no, I'm not making any of this up. Stoically, I adjusted my helmet and continued walking despite the urge to give up and phone for rescue by His Nibs in the batmobile.

Happily, I eventually found a flat stretch so I got on again. This time the bike decided to introduce me to the mysteries of gear changing. My previous bike, a three ton tank - sorry... a Raleigh shopper with bags and baskets galore, had 3 gears. I repeat - 3 gears.
Plenty.
I mean, why on earth have 18 gears??? It's not right. Not for me anyway. I had a choice:- direction or gear changing. I couldn't quite master both. Not today. I almost fell in hedges twice. My legs were spinning so wildly my jeans nearly caught in the chain. Not a good look for anyone. Passing drivers were slowing down to ogle and smirk. I think they were friends of the bike.
By the end of this forty minute ride I needed tea and Victoria sponge to recover. It was a cake emergency.
Honest.

The bike was left to snigger in the hut till the next sortie.