Roller Ball

I seem to remember a small classified advertisement in the back pages of my weekly cycling magazine, funnily enough called 'Cycling Weekly'.

The page of many similar black and white, one or two lineage ads, was not very easy to become engaged with because of its density of wordage and utter, in most cases, banality. There were offers of everything from body building whey protein to the same formula but in a handy sized snack bar, holidays including bike and baggage carriage up Kilimanjaro (and presumably down the other side), the same style of sunglasses worn by Bernard Hinault (5 times Tour de France Winner),, other replicas of jerseys, hats and the little cotton musette bags overprinted wih the Continental Team of your choice, Legal advice in the event of an accident of your own causation or Life Insurance in case events were out of your control completely.

My attention was however drawn to a small column at the foot of the page under the heading "All weather cycling is within your reach". There was a blurry photograph which could as easily have depicted a paper clip or a clothes horse such was the poor quality of the original image and subsequent budget printing.

I was at a time in my pursuit of cycling and fitness in general when the prospect of keeping up my haphazard training regime without going out into the cold, wet or any form of inclement weather was most attractive. I rang the telephone number given and almost instantly a voice answered as though poised but patiently waiting for the purchasers of the magazine to get home, read the main articles and then peruse the classifieds.

The product on offer was a set of rollers. Not those which my Mother regularly secured into her hair as part of the pungent home perm process but a metal frame into which were positioned three plastic cylinders. Two of these were closer together and onto which the rear wheel of a bicycle was placed. The single remaining cylinder could be adjusted in distance from the rear pair so as to sit directly under the front bike wheel.

I had seen similar on televised coverage of track and road racing where the competitors could remain in one place yet generate a good enough pace to get warmed up and to free reluctant muscles and tendons in prepration for the actual event. A crowd would often gather just to see this preparation.

The theory sounded good to me and I agreed to send a cheque or postal order in confirmation of my order. A few days later a long but shallow rectangular box arrived by delivery van and I eagerly unpacked and assembled the contents.

For something which would have to take my body weight and that of my bike and have to sustain a lot of movement and energy the unassembled fabrication did not instill a lot of confidence. It was a sunny day so I moved the operation to put it together out into the garden.

The metal frame was in thin section  tubular steel with spring loaded catches intended to lock at the required size. I had to bolt into the frame the three rollers which were in brittle plastic. They were mainly grey in colour to represent a road but with hazard orange edgings , a bit like rumble strips on the actual highways. The core of the rollers served as the hub with, I presumed, a suitably durable axle and bearings concealed behind a white aero engine type cowling. The uniformity of rotation between the single and the pair of cylinders was acheived by what could only be described as a very large elastic band which sat in a groove just within the framework.

The assembly was completed and with no leftover bits in the box to cause concern. The whole thing, tightened up and rigid started to look quite stable.

The problem was how to actually mount the bike when it was on the smooth drums. The saddle was elevated by some six inches above the normal level and there was no possibility of jumping on or scooting on the pedals as could be done on a firm path or road.

After consulting the manual which was silent on the matter I set aside the bike and returned from the house dragging  a wooden kitchen chair. Clambering up onto the seat was made more difficult in cycling shoes with the cleat on the underside slipping and sliding away. My position was made more precarious by having to grip and squeeze the brakes to prevent the bike from making its own way down the garden leaving me looking like I was taking refuge from a mouse.

Tentatively I got on the saddle and levered one foot into the toe straps on the pedal. It took some effort to push down one legged on the pedal in order to generate enough momentum and confidence to leave the safety of the chair and be fully strapped to the bike. I had to keep pedalling to stay upright and with the unique sensation of having to steer and control my position on the rollers. The family found the whole performance hilarious and panicked me by getting close and trying to break my concentration.

They soon got bored and wandered off to do other things. Unlike a ride on a road there was no chance to coast or freewheel and I was soon perspiring heavily and a little faint and dizzy from the mesmerising effect of staring down at the front roller. My younger brother kindly offered me up a drink of juice in a beaker. As I released one hand from its iron grip on the handlebars to take the cup there was a tremendous bang, a flash like a lightning strike and from the shock of it all I fell off in a mangled mess of sweaty flesh and racing bike. As for my brother he ran off screaming.

In the inevitable enquiry into what had happened it was discovered that the bearings in the roller drums were nylon. Under the churning rotation they developed a huge static electricity charge. 

This did not deter me from subsequent and regular use of the contraption and I am sorry to say that I did develop a cruel streak by requesting drinks from those unaware of the phenomenon. I was soon very proficient in pedalling at full speed whilst laughing wildly at the sight of the poor unfortunate who received the transmission of the static shock and their reaction from the distinct sensation of their hair standing on end, accompanied by a flash of light, a crackling sound and the faint smell of scorching.