Re cycling ....

I'm crackers about cycling.

Way back in my twenties I sort of made a deal with myself that I would cycle as far as the moon. No, not back as well. It was just a target. I thought a round figure of 225 000 miles would do it.

Now 65, I am almost there.

Well, I did say I was crackers. Here's proof.

But I have always loved bikes, and have ridden all sorts. Tandems, scooters, side-by-side bikes, recumbents, bikes with trailers, mountain bikes, road bikes, unicycles .... Somehow bikes are like boats: if you want to feel unhappy on a bike you have to be really determined.

Happy cyclist with new bike

De-haired happy scooterer with grandson

Oh, and when I said unicycles I was cheating a bit. I have a unicycle, and a red-hot desire to ride it, but so far after 8 years I can only do a metre before I fall off. It's harder than it looks, and I have the scars to prove it.

No, I don't carry the posts with me....

A nut for all seasons

But the thing that's oddest is the change in cyclists. Cycling has always been a working-class sort of activity, and while cyclists are feted in France, Italy, Belgium and Spain, they have always been rather looked down upon here in the UK.

Cyclists here have enjoyed great camaraderie. Whether a ride-to-work cyclist in standard clothes, a ride-for-fun cyclist in bike clothing that you can wear happily on the street, or, like me, a lycra nutcase, cycling has always been a friendly activity.

When I started riding, an acquaintance was a guy aged 90, still in wool shorts and with a single gear on his bike. He was always giving a cheery wave to cyclist a couple of generations younger than him, and they would happily wave back.

When you beak down at the road side, some cyclists will stop to enquire whether you need anything, and if you do, they are happy to help.

But most don't stop, don't wave.

When I was a young guy, and hopelessly uncompetitive in every way, if I saw a dot in the distance that might just be a cyclist I had to catch it, pass it, and give a big cheery hello as I went past. It was just compulsive.

It's a lot less friendly now than it used to be, and some of the young riders are intense, earnest and taciturn. Now that I get passed a lot, it's noticeable that younger cyclists tend to sweep wordlessly by.

There are exceptions. I was passed by a young guy on a smart bike - the super-mega-light kind that you have to weight down at night or risk finding it on the ceiling in the morning - who said not a word. I was pedalling hard at the time so was a bit annoyed at being overtaken so easily. I gave chase, caught him up, and passed him. My heart was exploding and my legs wanted to die, but I passed him. He stayed behind me for a while, and then moved effortlessly alongside. He reached out and patted my back - we were doing about 30 miles an hour at the time. He grinned. "Hey you're doing great, old timer. Going far ?" I didn't have much puff to waste on chatting, but we had a friendly exchange, I admired his bike, and he pulled effortlessly ahead, breathing gently and not even breaking sweat.

It was a lovely moment and I treasure it. He wasn't being patronising, just warm. It made me feel like part of the cycling fraternity. A slow part, but part nonetheless.