As a kid in the 50s, my first bike had blocks of wood on the pedals so my feet could reach them. It wasn't a cool look, but at least I wasn't alone. Most of my friends had wooden blocks on their pedals too, as most of us had second-hand bike passed down by much bigger kids.
The cycling bug didn't get me then. But when I was a month away from my 25th birthday, my car insurance was due. If I renewed after reaching 25, the cost plummeted. So I borrowed a shopping bike, cycled the 7 miles to work for a month, and was hooked.
Some time later I got the crazy idea of trying to cycle to the moon. Not literally, of course. It was crazy enough without being as delusional as that. And I am happy to say that I touched down a couple of years ago, and am now on the way back, having clocked up nearly 300 000 miles in 46 years.
Yes, I know. I will be lost in space and never get back. Let's not take the image too far.
When I started riding, in Sheffield, cyclists were a bit of a community. I suppose that cyclists had grown up in an era when military style AA staff, riding motorcycle side cars, would salute every car they saw with an AA badge on the front. So the roads were rather more friendly then than now. But cyclists would greet each other, giving big hellos to fellow cyclists whether mates or complete strangers.
If you broke down at the road side, someone would stop to offer tools, help, sympathy.
Cycling was an all-age hobby. An ancient guy who lived near me rode his single-gear bike everywhere, and on weekends would head for the coast. New kids on the block and oldies like him got on well. Friends through common interest.
Today, less than half the cyclists I meet respond to a hello, and maybe a tenth of cyclists initiate one. If you break down on the road, cyclists will go past, with only a tiny number being willing to stop and help.
It doesn't need to be this way. On a recent trip, I was passed by a posh bike - you could lift it with a finger, literally - and a young guy clad in all the right gear. He went past silently, and I felt invisible and annoyed. I gave chase, and with exploding lungs caught him up. He was very surprised. He was in the zone, not sweating or even breathing heavily, and making the thing look infuriatingly easy.
We chatted for a while, riding side-by-side, and I said that he need not hang around for me as I did not want delay him. He grinned. 'Nice to chat', he said. Then he patted me on the back. ' Well done', he said. 'Keep on going'. And with no apparently effort he pulled away as if I was standing still.
It was fleeting camaraderie, and I felt good for a week.
It's so easy to make ordinary things that bit more pleasant with a little effort.
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