The Floods Subside

I awoke with a start. My first thoughts went to my shiny unused bike, which had obviously woken me by calling to me from downstairs (I didn't have the heart to abandon it unridden to the garage whilst it was still in mint condition.)

Trying to focus through sleep filled eyes, I opened the curtains a chink and peered out. It looked as if the rain had stopped for the time being. It was a little hard to tell though, still being dark. It was only 5.05am after all.

Still, I had waited long enough, so 10 minutes later, I quietly opened my door and wheeled my bike out into the waiting world.

Now the fun really started. I had no idea what this bike was going to handle like and it had been a couple of months since I had last wobbled about on a borrowed bike seventeen years after first learning to ride. I decided the best approach would be to ride it quietly up and down the (level) street for a while, as to leave the cul de sac in which I live meant going down a hill with a 40% gradient.

I clambered on, took a deep breath, and pushed off. After a few wild wobbles the bike set off down the street. I swear I had nothing to do with it. Just before I reached the wall of bushes at the end of the street I remembered the brakes, and narrowly avoided becoming part of the shrubbery. Instead, I discovered that the brakes were more powerful than those I'd used previously and almost lurched myself over the handlebars.

Undaunted, I turned the bike and set off back up the street. This time I remembered the brakes before I got to the end of the street and the left turn which would take me down that hill and from there, within a hundred yards or so, onto a cycle/pedetrian trail where there would at least be no hazard caused by motor vehicles (parked or moving). So full of confidence because I hadn't fallen off (threatened dive bombs because of sudden deceleration didn't count), I turned the corner and faced the hill.

Something strange had happened in the night. A landscaper had obviously been at work. Instead of that 40% gradient I mentioned, I swear there was now an 80% one instead. So I did what any sane, world-weary, forty something woman would do.

I dismounted and wheeled the bike down the hill. What a wimp! However, this strategy ensured that I reached the cycle track in one piece, and still able to enjoy my new possession.

Pleased that I could now push off without having to find a higher hump of grass or a kerb on which to rest my foot as I did so, I set off up the deserted track. It was now about 5.30am and I soon discovered another problem. I needed to try to get to grips with the gears - but it was too dark for me to see the markings on them, and I couldn't remember which way downshifted and which way upshifted through the gears. My cunning ruse of removing my front light and using it to see the markings only worked briefly, because as son as I set off again, I got so concerned with balancing that I instantly forgot! The next few minutes resulted in much chain clicking, and feet constantly slipping off from the pedals as the bike veered uncontrolled - but I never fell off!

Gradually dawn broke, and I had a clearer view. In this time I'd only seen one other person - a man walking his dog. I'd reverted to the cunning plan mentioned earlier of pretending to phone someone until he disappeared into the distance. Now that it was lighter, I was able to focus more on following a straight line down the path, but I found I'd only been fooling myself about the gears. Even though I could now see the markings, I still had problems selecting the right one.

Small victories, however... I hadn't fallen off, and, using the 'both knees clutched tight to the bikeframe and freewheel' method I'd developed previously, I found I was still able to remove a hand briefly from the handlebar. I even practised removing first one hand, then replacing that and removing the other.

I was going really well with the steering and control, then the top of a tree jumped into my path. It had originally stood on the bank but had been felled or fallen so that the crown half obscured the pathway. I steered to avoid it, overcompensated and plunged through the grass on the other side of the track. Ah well, missing half the track wasn't as bad as missing the entire track.

By now my wrists were sore (from the sheer terror with which I was gripping the handlebars, rather than from a need to adjust my sitting position, I am certain). Remarkably, thanks to the new gel saddle fitted the evening before my own personal saddle wasn't suffering too badly at all compared to my recall of how things had been in the past. (Not brilliantly, but I'm a woman, so can take pain without grumbling!), but the rain had started falling again, breakfast was calling and I was most definitely puffing and panting, so, pleased with my initial efforts, and still very much in one piece, I headed home, pushing the bike up the final hill, which had now developed into an 85% incline.