I had decided on a hybrid. A hybrid was essentially a fast straight-handled bike which seemed the best starter option for me.
But, for a bear avoiding a tricycle, the most depressing thing is the price of these damn things. Seriously. You ever looked at the price? You can go to Car Giant and pick up a decent runner for the price of some of them.
Looking at how much cash I had, I thought eBay will be good. You of course know eBay. It is one of the most frustrating systems known to man where right up to the last second you never know if you are going to be successful. Bloody snipers lie in what, waiting to take out your bid with one finally timed shot at the death of the bidding.
After about a dozen attempts, I spotted a Specialized hybrid that the web suggested would be a good start before the inevitable progress to drops.
Valiantly placing a bid, while setting maximum bid, I waited, and waited and…I won.
Bloody nora, I’ve got myself a bike.
So off I went to Hipster Central in East London and got the bike. It looked fine, cycled well and was cheap (ish).
In the sun, I bombed past London Fields, threaded through the City, over the Thames and into Waterloo. I was a cycling god. A Mercury on wheels...
I…
Was…
Knackered.
A five-mile ride sent rivers of sweat down my face and armpits. On the train, people backed away as I swayed like a drunk. Oh, my, God.
I hadn't felt this bad since I 'ran the world' in '86. Surely, I could do this. Five miles of relatively flat ground? Was it so long ago that I was vaguely fit? I walked everywhere, this couldn't be right. After copious amounts of water and fighting back the urge to be sick, my body returned to what I laughingly called normal and jumped off the train at the next major station and rode home. My re-introduction to cycling had begun…
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