I think I had 3 different bikes (if I include a trike) up to the age of 11, at which point I started saving my pocket money to buy the Dawes Realm Rider that I had seen hanging in the window of T G Halls, Barton St., Gloucester - £23/12/6d was the target. One fine day just before Easter in 1966 I handed over my life savings and rode away on my gleaming new racing bike.
My first bike (trike) - I'm riding pillion
It has a bone hard narrow leather saddle which left its mark both physically and mentally, and tended to limit cycle rides due to the chafing that occurred. There was no such thing as padded cycling shorts in those days, and the jeans used to wear through pretty quickly when sitting on something that felt as sharp as a razor blade.
It had holders for spare light bulbs in the rubber bar-end stoppers, and a water bottle was later fitted to the handlbars. A traditional large saddlebag was fitted at one stage bit removed again due to image constraints in my mid-teens.
The bike saw reasonable evening and weekend use, but began to suffer a problem familiar to that generation whereby the cotter pins began to wear resulting in the cranks slipping at crucial moments leading to various elemnts of the anatomy being impailed on the either the cross bar or the top of the handlebar stem. By 1970 it was being used to cycle the 5 1/2 miles to school, with satchel strapped to the cross bar. This caused the paint to wear out quite quickly, and one by one the lower gears ceased to be accessible as the coiled spring rusted.
A proud me, aged 12, with my new racing bike
In 1971 a motorbike was purchased and the bike was committed to the shed, where it remained throughout the university years (apart from the occasional emergency when I was home and a lift couldn't be prised out of anyone). With hindsight it would have been fantastic to have used the bike at university for getting around, but it was never in vogue.
The second half of the '70's saw the bike continue to rust quietly in the shed apart from a brief period out on loan during which time both brake cables snapped so it was now unusable.
On moving to Kent in 1979 the bike came too, only to spend all of it's time hanging on the garage wall never to turn it's wheels in anger. Just as well, as the tyres had perished by this stage. Children were born and they staggered around on their own plastic trikes, metal trikes and then they took their first tentative turns of the pedals on 2 wheels. But none of this inspired me to refurbish THE bike.
In 1986 we moved back to Gloucestershire to Winchcombe, and 3 years later the elder boys were old enough to venture out the main road on their bikes for the first time. This entailed me borrowing a bike to accompany them. It was a revelation, cycling around the country lanes, seeing over hedges (that you can't see over in a car), feeling the wind in your hair and the sun on your back - it was exhilirating.
That did it, and the old bike was retrieved from the shed and marchced down to the local bike shop for a feasibility check on whether it could be rebuilt. Despite attempt to sell me a new one instead it was agreed that the bike would be stripped down, the frame sent off to be resprayed, and new wheels, gears, crankset, saddle and brakes purchased. This left just the frame, handlebars, handlebar stem and seat pin as the original items. In addition it had a double chainring on the front which helped give it 14 gears instead of the 5 it originally had.
When it was all put together it looked fabulous, and, in 1989 my cycling career resumed after being in suspended animation for some 18 years or so. Early rides left me puffing, panting and pushing the bike up hill, as neither muscles or lungs were in shape. Given that Winchcombe is surrounded on 3 sides by hills this was regular occurrance. Even longer rides on the flat left me staggering home with low blood-sugar and dehydrated before I learned that I needed to carry food and water and imbibe regularly.
It wasn't long before the new crankset needed replacing as it was poor quality and slightly distorted resulting in the cranks continually working loose (some things don't change!). There was also the occasion when I ran over a cat in Somerset and crashed the bike requiring replacement brakes and saddle. A couple of years later the gear change got caught up in the back wheel requiring the rear dropout to be straightened and a replacement changer to be fitted.
A proud me, aged 36, with rebuilt racing bike
This apart there was 8-10 years regular cycling on the set-up involving weekly 50-mile rides, and one or more 100-mile rides each year, including the "Salisbury Century" on numerous occasions and some CTC (Cycling Tourist Club) 100-mile rides. The record distance up until recently was set in the mid-90's with a 124 mile ride from Winchcombe down to Minehead. This was a bit of an accident as I had estimated from the map that it would only be 80 miles or so. It had been dark for 3 1/2 hours by the time we reached our destination and a search party had been sent out.
Bike carriers were purchased for the roof of the car and the bike saw service in Scotland, Wales and on numerous occasions in France. A tandem had also been purchased, to enable Romi to cycle, along with a trailor bike for the youngest, and on a couple of memorable holidays the car had a tandem and 3 bikes on the roof, and a trailor bike in the back. The trailor bike was sometimes attached to the tandem giving "3 in a row" (much to the amusement of many locals as we sped past).
in 1997 the bike was carefully packed up and joined us in a flight to Sydney, Australia, where it surprisingly arrived and was reassembled. Wonderful rides were had through the National Park south of Sydney, visiting various Pacific beaches and charging up and down the local hills. Upon arriving home the large chainring was slightly bent, the front forks were slightly squeezed together and a crank needed replacing when I cross-threaded a pedal that I was screwing back on. Apart from that, it was back to the well-trodden cycleways.
Then in 2001 I decided I ought to realise a lifelong ambition and have a shot at doing Lands End to John O'Groats. I had never done cycle touring before and the bike would have to be kitted out with panniers to carry my various bits of luggage (as I would be cycling unsupported). It also entailed getting new, stronger wheels, and I completely upgraded the brakes and gear changers into combined "Ergo" changers, and treated myself to a new gel-saddle that was supposed to change shape to fit my rear-end.
It was a real test of man and machine, and I was nervous that my racing bike wouldn't stand up to carrying panniers for that distance, as the frame wasn't really built for touring.
I was relieved that both the bike and I survived the journey, although in the case of the bike it only just managed it. Upon reaching home I discovered that a rear dropout was cracked, and the future of the bike was once more under threat. But it was stripped down and sent off to have replacement dropouts welded onto the frame, as well as water-bottle bosses, and a second respray.
Having said that it was an amazing experience that has led me to do further cycle tours, all of which are documented day-by-day via the links opposite..
The Bike reaches John O'Groats after 1011 miles
Today both the bike and its rider are older and wiser, but still pounding out the miles. A triple chainring is in the off'ing as I can no longer get the 7-speed blocks that I want for my freewheel. Also there is a nother minor crisis looming - the handlebar stem is now rusted into the frame and can't be freed without serious risk of damage to the front forks, but we'll cross that bridge when the headset needs replacing.
In the meantime, thoughts are turning to the next cycle tour and another flight to Australia.....
28 years on, the bike sets off for its 3rd cycle tour
The tandem takes a breather in Brittany, resplendent with panniers