Valley of the Trolley Dollies

The last time I was on a bicycle, the vehicle in question had all the latest features: Handlebars. Front wheel brakes, guaranteed to be extra strong, resulting in the rider being somersaulted over the handlebars in a similar style to the Youths of Minos, and a bell, guaranteed to get you pointed at and jeered if you ever used it.

As I straddled the bike on Sunday afternoon, I realised with horror that not only didn’t it have a bright shiny bell, or a horn, or, as one might justifiably expect in these digital music times, an mp3 player that honked out “Dixie” when activated; it had gears. Two sets. I mean, last time I checked, riding a bicycle was supposed to be as easy as - well, as riding a bicycle. You get on, you put your feet on the pedals, and you push them downwards alternately.

So I pedalled. The pedal turned. The chain caught, momentarily. There was a click, a snap, and the pedals lurched uselessly forward. The bike wobbled, but I pedalled again, and, again, the whir, click, but, this time, no snap. The bike moved. Pedal, move, change gears. Pedal, click. Snap. Lurch. No move.

Hmmm, these gear things are a little complicated, aren’t they? I mean, arcane references to strange ancient rites, I’m right there with you. Talk of dreadfully camp old Southern rebel tunes, give me a shout. But gears? Machinery? At the risk of sounding all Nelly…. Gurl, please! Do I look like I understand gears? Actually, there’s a type of gear I’m very familiar with, but that’s for another posting…

So, obligatory Nellie gag done, back to the bike. I worked it out! By the end of my street, I had chosen the correct gear. Still wasn’t sure what the dial on the left handlebar was for (it just had a “H” and “L” on it. “High” and “Low”? “Hill” & Level”? “Hurtle” and “List”? “Hobble” and Limp”? I never did find out).

At the end of my street, I turned left, and kept on going. For two hours.

Luckily, I brought my camera with me, and so was able to capture these gentlemen when we met: