Having a bike when you’re a kid is pretty special. What kid doesn’t want to have a new bike as a Christmas or birthday present? The first bike I remember getting was a Boxer. These were all the rage when I was at primary school so I was massively excited when I got mine for my birthday. I also remember my dad teaching me how to ride my bike in the back garden. It was the usual technique of him letting go of the saddle as I was pedalling and shouting encouragement to keep going. I did exactly the same thing with my daughters and it’s a great feeling seeing them pedal away, growing in confidence as they get used to balancing the bike on their own.
For me, it was freedom to get about in the village I grew up in, Stonnall. Racing around the village with my friends was a regular thing, no different I’m sure from every other kid that age.
At that time it seemed easy to go anywhere and everywhere on my bike. As long as I got back for tea time, I was free to go out and meet up with my mates. Maybe it was because I was a boy, but I never felt any nervousness from my parents about being off doing my own thing. However, this must have been put to the test by my brother. He also had a bike and being a few years older he would be hanging around with his friends or my cousins, Chris and Steve, who also lived in the village. One day Dave didn’t come home at the normal time for tea.
Understandably my parents became concerned and ended up calling the police when there was still no sign of him in the evening. Going through their usual protocol, the police first checked the house to ensure he wasn’t hiding anywhere. I was most upset when they came in to my bedroom to look under my bed and woke me up. The police later found my brother and my cousin cycling up the M54 motorway past Telford. It turns out they’d had the bright idea of cycling to Wales, not realising it was a 200 mile round trip. I later found out that my dad had done something similar when he was a lad although his hadn’t involved the police. Long bike rides were obviously a family tradition.
Throughout the summer I would be down the park with my mates or just riding around the village having fun. There was nothing serious or competitive about any of it. I often ventured out of the village to go to nearby Aldridge or even Lichfield to buy records, books or toys. It was just part of growing up.
One day I went on a longer bike ride with Dave and Chris to Sutton Coldfield, where my other cousins Shelley and Zoe lived with my Aunt and Uncle. I’m sure my brother and Chris didn’t really want me tagging along, but they couldn’t really leave me alone at home. We cycled to Sutton Park on the way and ended up getting confronted by a group of lads. I got my baseball cap taken by one of them which predictably led to me bawling my eyes out (I was quite a cry baby to be fair), much to Dave and Chris’ embarrassment. We managed to get away and cycled off to the safety of my Aunt and Uncle’s house. The incident was never mentioned again.
Over the years I got bigger and better bikes. The BMX Chrome Burner was a particular favourite, just because it was silver and shiny. I wasn’t interested in doing tricks or jumps like some of the lads, having a cool looking bike was good enough for me.
At secondary school, mountain bikes became the in-thing. My mates Jonny and Grizzly (Nick Adams…Grizzly Adams of 80s TV show fame? No?) were avid mountain bikers and I would often accompany them and others to Cannock Chase which was the place to go near us for off road cycling. Again, I was never interested in going down steep banks or off jumps, I was far too much of a wimp for that. I liked going out cycling and getting knackered though.
Years later properly designed mountain bike trails were developed on the Chase. These became known as ‘The Dog’ and ‘The Monkey’. I’ve done them a few times when I lived that way. They’re great fun, but not quite my thing.
I took my mountain bike with me to Loughborough University. Like most students it was my main mode of transport to and from lectures. I didn’t use it for anything other than that during my time there, other than maybe the odd cycle out in the countryside. I managed to get two bikes stolen while I was there. The first was my own, which got taken from the hall of residence. I had locked it to a drainpipe, and when I came to collect it the next day all that was left was the front wheel. Mental note: lock the frame as well next time.
The second time was when I borrowed a bike from a fellow student in the hall, because I’d had mine stolen. I borrowed it to check my results for my second year exams. These were posted on the wall of the Economics faculty. When I got there I realised I hadn’t brought a lock with me. Thinking it was ok because I’d only be gone for a matter of minutes I just left it against the wall outside. Sure enough it was gone by the time I got back. Clearly bike theft was a lucrative business in Loughborough at the time. The guy I borrowed it off was less than impressed, but took it very well. He got another one from insurance like I did later anyway. He actually saw his being ridden around Loughborough a few weeks later on his way back from lunch. Him and a few others gave chase but couldn’t catch the dastardly fiend. High drama for us student types.
After university myself, Wyn, Closet and Simeon decided to go up to Scotland for a cycling holiday. More accurately, we went to visit Closet, see a bit of Scotland whilst drinking a lot and took our bikes. Closet was living in Edinburgh at the time, so Simeon and I headed up there in Wyn’s bright orange VW Beetle with the bikes loaded up on the back. The plan was to head west from the capital and then spend a week travelling to various places including the Isle of Arran, Loch Ness, Inverness, Aviemore and then back to Edinburgh.
On the Isle of Arran we got our bikes out with the intention of cycling to the nearest pub whilst exploring the island. It wasn’t long before the heavens opened as we headed up our first hill. At the top of the hill we realised we had lost Wyn. Not worrying too much the rest of us carried on. About half an hour later Wyn drove past us in his car and said he’d meet us at the pub. By the time we met up with him we were all drenched, and the weather looked like it was only going to get worse. He’d already had a couple of pints by the time we got there and was clearly happy being nice and dry. That was the last time we used the bikes. Beer was the order of the day after that as we wound our way around Scotland.