The hard sell

"So, you'll want stabilisers."

I walked into my local bike shop for the first time and I felt like I'd entered a secret society.

Shacklegriblers hung from walls. Men with focused faces walked about with purpose. Words were whispered in code.

I felt a tad out of my depth.

It's weird. I've spent years hiding the fact that I couldn't ride a bike. Excuses were made with friends and, on press trips, I had to pretend I had a phobia.
But since writing this blog, I've been admitting it to so many people. It's now like a badge of honour. "Yes, I can't ride a bike. But dammit, I'm trying to learn."

And so here I was, in a shop I'd walked past hundreds of times before. By the way, this ranks as the second manliest thing I've done, after buying a hammer.

I'd gone in to pick up a pump. While Monty has a nifty one that I occasionally will use as a stand-in lightsaber (stand-in, that is, until they perfect the science), Diana needed a new one. She's got this weird valve (ahem) which needed an adaptor and a pump.

Anyway, in I went.

I went for the casual browser method of shopping to start off with. Just looking around and blending in with the background. I wouldn't stand out, I'd just seem like a man who'd been in a thousand bike shops before. I was one of them.

When I realised I was the only one in the shop,  I approached the chap behind the counter. He went for the hard sell at first, pointing me in the direction of the second coolest looking pump I'd ever seen. You could stand on it and push a plunger up and down. I guess it's based on one of those vehicles you see on train tracks in films, usually controlled by someone causing mischief or in a mishap.

When I told him about the learning the stabiliser suggestion hit the table. I gave a polite laugh, guessing he was joking.

He wasn't.

He seemed a little upset.

A little embarrassed, I picked up the cheapest pump in the shop, a free cycling map and a leaflet from the groovy people at Sustrans for a bike pack. Lovely.

I'm trying to get into the whole bike culture. I've joined The Times Cycle Safety campaign and now I've been in my first bike shop.

Let's hope the second visit is a little more successful.

Balancing act

If you're ever learning a new skill, then my advice is the day before you start don't have too many drinks.

Sadly, I don't take my own advice.

It has been quite a busy few days. On Friday I payed a flying visit to Cornwall to catch up with my niece before she turned two. Saturday saw me tackle some wedding bits, complete some housework, cook and fit in a small gym session with my friend Timi.
On Saturday night we decided to blow off some steam.

I don't know if this is a sensible thing or a stupid thing but we ended up playing drinking games with wine.

I know.

It's stupid.

The WTB and I didn't stumble home too late but, come the morning, the mild hangover and the extreme Thai Red Bull were having an influence on our mental state. It was cold. My head ached. Dehydration had it.

Really, it was the perfect condition to start my bike riding quest.

After struggling down to the bike store, Monty was brought up, the saddle changed (to something a little more forgiving) and I was ready for my debut scoot-weeeeee-balance session.

You know what? It was fine.

I'm not saying that within a couple of days I should be up and running but, in the words of the WTB, my balance was better than expected.

It really was fine. I can keep my legs off the floor for a bit so that's given me a bit of confidence.

Monty is a bit of a beast so I also had a go on Diana, the WTB's Dawes (see what we did there? I told you I like to name things).

Diana and Monty – together at last

Diana is a bit smaller, bit lighter and I find it easy to get my leg over with her...

Ahem

We did about and hour and while I still had some mental blocks – at one point I just couldn't get moving – I had, and this is the good part, fun.

I know it'll be a challenge, I know it'll get harder, but I could get used to this.

So next time you're hungover, dragging your body around and not making much sense, try learning a new skill.
Pick up a trombone and give it a play.
Write that novel.
Learn to juggle.
You'll be surprised how good it makes you feel.

Or just go for a fry-up.