You never forget the exhilarating feeling of riding your bike for the very first time without stabilisers or your dad holding on to the seatpost whilst running, croutched and short breathed alongside. It is a leap of faith.
The sheer joy in breaking loose is tempered by the realisation that everything is now in your own control. Usually accompanied by a nervous laughing and a few wiggles and weaves there is a true sense of freedom that may not be experienced again until that moment in your future, too far ahead to contemplate or comprehend at the age of 6, when you take your first solo drive in a car.
What starts the love affair with cycling?
My first wheeled endeavours were on a small red metal framed tricycle. A hand me down or second hand thing, a bit like a hobby horse and easier to scoot along rather than stretch tiny undeveloped legs onto the direct drive pedals on the small front wheel. This form of transport and shuffling around, mostly indoors sufficed but it was not long before I graduated to the family learner bike. This is still in the shed at the old family home and not bad for its half century or more.
A chunky white walled tyred bike, cream and light blue frame, stainless steel or real chrome trim and proper lever brakes for small hands to grip and squeeze in alternate euphoria and terror, dependant on the gradient or quality of the surface being ridden on. The rear axle was the clamping position for the faithful stabilisers. They were intended to be set at slightly different levels to simulate the theoretical process of riding which involved acheiving that fine definition of balance between good straight line forward movement and a disastrous over toppling and all the gravel and skin mixing that prevailed.
I would dismiss those in my bike peer group whose fathers set the stabilisers dead level. The chunky tyres were regularly in need of pumping up and as the inner tubes had car-type valves this had to be done with the fierce spring loaded footpump which was stored in the boot of the Morris Minor. There were regular sobering stories in the newspapers about small boys being killed or injured through connecting their low pressure bike tyres to the air line at the local garage. I could not see the attraction of a mechanical inflation when many hours could be spent jogging on the manual pump albeit with very little to show for it.
The small bike was strong enough to resist the rough play of children and resilient enough to be left out in the garden overnight and in all weathers. I soon outgrew it and it passed over to the next child of suitable age.
At Junior School I had a second hand Raleigh bike. Almost full sized wheels, cross bar and the most uncomfortable saddle you could imagine, sweaty plastic and with protruding springs and rivets. I took my cycling proficiency test on that bike. That was in the days when a policeman supervised in lessons and at the time of the actual test. He ridiculed my old bike and in particular the metal rod operated brakes. I did have the last laugh when he tested the brakes by running along and then pulling hard on the front and rear levers. He was not expecting anything to happen between the brake blocks and wheel rims so when they performed brilliantly in stopping the bike dead he was taken by surprise. The sight of his helmet flying off and rolling away across the playground was well received by all in the playground bar one. That bike did have a bit of an annoying characteristic. Sometimes the pedals would just spin around with the chain coursing wildly around the rear axle and hub with no engaging or prospect of forward motion. This invariably happened when a quick getaway was necessary to avoid the big, mean kids at the local shops or when there was a challenge for a mad race from a friend. Of course, traffic was slower and of much lower volumes than today and even a frantic head down peddaling on the main road through the town did not throw up too many hazards.
My next bike was a Raleigh Wayfarer. Second hand again and blue. I needed it to get to secondary school so it was fitted with an aluminium rack over the back mudguard and a saddlebag. Now a matter of much cringing embarassment I stuck a bright orange rectangular sticker on the back of the vinyl clad saddlebag which said 'Short Vehicle'. The bike was also for my early morning paper round but the regular riding along with one foot on the cranks caused them to bend and eventually shear off.
There were plenty of bikes in the house, at one time upwards of 30 of all sizes and styles. My first brand new bike was purchased at the age of 17. I had spent a summer working on a farm and for £130 I could afford a Carlton Pro-Am Racing bike. It was a beauty. Ice white frame, drop bars, aluminium wheels, 12 gears, lightweight tubing. It was not a machine on which you could be casually dressed or use just to go down to the shops. I had to get the gear and the rest of my wages went on woolly racing shorts with a team logo and a flashy Peugeot jersey in the classic black and white chest band style of the late 1970's. I also bought a track pump to get to the 100 psi pressure needed for the narrow racing profile tyres.
I dutifully and enthusiastically pumped up all the tyres on the bikes in the house to their indicated pressure or what, based on my new bike, I felt appropriate through guessing.
During the night the family were rudely awoken by a series of explosions from the bicycles in the hallway as the inner tubes finally burst under the duress of the forced air.
The Carlton was, with some change of components, a starter bike for competitive racing and in the following years I took part in many road races and time trials with minimal success but a lot of enjoyment. My grandfather left me some money in his will and I used it to have a custom made bike built with the best components I could stretch to. Loretta Langdale is still with me and I have tried to keep her looking up to date with a change of parts and upgraded paintwork.
It is unfortunate that pressure of work and just being a proper grown up throws up many hindrances to just going out on the bike but the better weather is here, my lycra racing gear might still fit and I can feel again that exhilaration of being on two wheels.
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