even if it's old junk
I am now Mags "two bikes" Halliday, having collected Faster Mule! Yah Yah! from my parents. It needs a lot more work than Woah Mule! to make it roadworthy again but I am feeling all enthused, having really just how old skool retro it is.
What’s the matter with the [bike I'm riding]?Faster Mule! was bought in 1982. For my siblings and I, the rule was simple: if you could ride the child bike when you turned 11, you got an adult bike. Having been unable to cope with the counter-intuitivity involved in taking corners as a kid, I spent the summer of '81 forcing myself to get the hang on riding a bike so that I got a real bike. Faster Mule! had a ladies' frame, 3 speeds, proper mudguards, angled handlebars and - and this is the thing I had forgotten - white wall tyres. My mum has also given me her old wicker handlebar basket, which has to be at least forty years old. So I've decided I'm going to spend a year or so renovating Faster Mule to turn it into a totally retro shopper and town bike.
Can’t you tell that it’s out of style?
Should I get a set of white wall tires?
Are you gonna cruise the miracle mile?
It needs new tyres and inners, anyway, but I'm also going to do a new paint job, replacing the current (very late '80s) mottled green, purple and gold with a British Racing Green frame and purple mudguards. It also needs new brake pads etc. Faster Mule never did make it up the serious hills in Devon, so will be strictly for trips to the local shops or the riverside pubs, whilst Woah Mule will remain my everyday ATB.
I'm not sure where this newly-rediscovered love of bikes has come from. I think it's partially the exhiliration of road riding, where you have to be alert for cars, buses, pedestrians and dogs on extendable leads. Especially dogs on extendable leads. Coming back from the uni last week, I realised just how many dog walkers let the dog wander over the cycle path, creating a trip wire at just the right height for sending you over the handlebars.
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Posted @
5:26 pm
on
Sunday, March 12, 2006
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Woah Mule, Woah!
Finally had a roadworthy bike this afternoon. There'd been a problem with the back tyre (first it was overinflated so that the tyre wall had popped out the wheel rim, then I deflated it too far and it was unrideable) and this afternoon I had the brainwave of going down to the bike place on the Quay and asking for help. Once it was sorted, I took to the road. Alphington Road. It's one of the very busy arterial roads of Exeter, leading out of the city towards the coast and the South Hams. Even on Sunday it is busy as it also leads to one of the two big industrial estates full of DIY stores. In London it would be a red zone. Doing my first bit of on-road cycling for ten years on this is like learning to swim when your ship goes down in the Atlantic: you've got to get the hang of it right away or you're dead. Luckily, I instantly remembered the joys of just missing drains, looking over your shoulder and not wobbling. Got to the supermarket flush with success and only one instance of riding on the pavement (the junction into the industrial estate is scary). I was umming and ahhing about coming back along hilly Cowick Lane when I realised I could take a flat route back. It's not the quickest way to walk, but on a cycle it would be fastest and has the bonus of ending up being on the right side of my street for my house.
Gods, I'd forgotten how much fun riding a bike is. Yeah, the traffic is alarming (thank you to idiot who turned the corner too tightly so I ended up stopping) and my bike needs some tweaks (like adjusting the angle of the back brake lever so gripping it is natural) but overall, weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
I wore my cowgirl shirt, on account of it being pale and therefore more visible, and also because I've decided this much faster bike should be called Woah, Mule, Woah! since it is the successor of Faster Mule! Yah! Yah!. Also, we saw Brokeback Mountain last night and I'm still unpicking what I think of it today. Based on the number of looks I got in the supermarket, a lot of people have seen the gay cowboy movie and were therefore making assumptions about cowgirls too.
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Posted @
4:21 pm
on
Sunday, February 05, 2006
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Hills. I hate hills.
This weekend was Microcon, held up at the Uni. The Uni is on the top of one of the higher hills within Exeter. Dauntless, I put on my chaps (well, alright, brown cords) and cowgirl shirt (no, really) and cycled up to be a paying punter. Trying to reach the uni when very out of practice really brought the 'push' part of 'pushbike' to the fore. I also wussed out a couple of times on the way back on Saturday, partially because Woah Mule's newly oiled brakes feel different and I'm not fond of hurtling down a 1/8 gradiant towards a busy road unsure if I can come to a stop at the junction.
Today I realised I had to get to the uni via the office as I needed to collect something. In a burst of rebelliousness I locked the bike to the railings, as the office landlord has instructed me NOT to do. Brings down the tone, you know. It's Sunday, I reason, I can lock it up where I damn well like and he won't even know. Except as I was unlocking it to leave (and padlocking the gate to the front yard/lightwell which someone else in the building had left unlocked) the landlord greeted me. Rumbled. Cycled and pushed up to the post-grad centre, which includes a stretch of long straight and just slightly uphill road. The sort of thing which exhausts you whilst being barely noticeable to anyone in a car. But coming back tonight...I did it! The whole way without any pushing or cheating! I did a right-hand turn I'd been avoiding (off New North Road into Howell Road, for anyone who knows the area) and did it with traffic passing me in both directions, then took a mini-roundabout by the station which I'd also previously shied at. By my maths, I did 4.5 miles today on Woah Mule alone.
Microcon is a great chance to catch up with various people, this year including Paul Cornell and Jasper Fforde. I missed the Saturday morning talks due to having to collect a marvellous mechanical Singer sewing machine from a shop but was in time for Jasper and Paul's talks, as well as the annual Doctor Who panel, Richard Freeman's report on his quest for the Mongolian Death Worm and Mark Leyland's talk on myths.
Each year, an underlying theme tends to emerge from the talks, and it seems that, along with Fay Sampson's talk on how death is treated in children's fiction on the Sunday, this year was about retellings and shared systems of imagination. So Richard found the underlying reports of the Mongolian Death Worm rather less dramatic than the myths which had grown up around it, whilst Mark told a Trojan myth which wasn't in the Illiyad or the Odyssey and therefore doesn't form part of the common idea of the Trojan wars. Jasper talked about how his work plays with our ideas of how stories work - amongst many wonderful diversions, as usual. Paul covered a mass of stuff about writing for Who, about how it is perceived and what they could and couldn't do. As usual, listening to these people talk impresses me. The breadth of knowledge, plus the sheer confidence to tangent entertainly, makes me want to up my game.
Also, sitting in the JCR telling people the two story ideas I have, made me realise the time has come to actually sit down and start on the one which already has shape and themes and characters in my head. Except tonight I have to do my chores and I want to play with the new-fangled sewing thing, so that's another evening gone.
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Posted @
5:14 pm
on
Sunday, March 05, 2006
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My Ever Changing Moods
One of the things getting woah mule! last year meant was getting to grips with modern bike valves and pumps.
I learnt to ride and service bikes in the early 1980s. I wasn't allowed a racer as they were too dangerous, but still, think of this Jam video for an idea of when I could last strip a bike and rebuild it. (Also, for Talbot's frankly wussy helmet which wouldn't have stopped anything.)
But I went down Halfords and bought a stirrup pump because they look soooo cool. Also, a hand pump to stuff in a bag so I could fix tyres in transit. I just couldn't get the hang of them. No matter what I did it wouldn't fix on right. The value would just start venting, or the valve wouldn't open and the pump attachment bit would fly off the valve. So I'd been going down friendly bike hire places and getting a pump up. Today, watching packs of cyclists going through London, I decided I would get to grips with the damn pump. And I have! Hurrah! I am no longer afeared of long rides in case I need to pump the tyres!
What with one thing and another (i.e. the chap, new job etc) I've not been on the bike much, and certainly haven't got around to fixing up faster mule yah yah! as I planned. But the bike holding bay (i.e. an odd bit of the hallway where I can lean them) is now tidied up and I'm ready to whizz around to the supermarket again.
ETA: Alistair, who is a proper bike nut (see his Grande Depart post), will be hosting another Exeter Goes Pop! night this Thursday at the Phoenix in Exeter. If you're around, pop in. It's free and laid back.
[For some reason, blogger doesn't like me putting titles in unless I'm in Preview mode - this is very annoying]
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Posted @
12:11 pm
on
Sunday, July 08, 2007
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But we don't care about the Young Folks
Things are hectic. Not because of The Wedding Monster, but just a massive list of stuff to do combined with growing responsibilities at work. This morning, ignoring the list of stuff to do for a bit, I woke early and headed out on Woah Mule. The plan was to do my normal 10K ride to the end of the canal path and back. The light was the sort of pearly grey dawn that can turn fabulous as the morning burns off. As I'd hoped, there were some good autumn/winter shots to take on the path.
Instead of turning around at the end of the canal path, though, I decided to carry on to Topsham as there are some fabulously big reed beds near there which could have been looking good. I reached the village around 9am: it's a route I used to take fifteen years back but now there is a cycleway for most of the run. I didn't get good shots of the reed beds - I think I need to be at the Swan's Rest or Turf Locks to get that. But it was still pretty.
I then got the train back, partially because I was feeling leg-tired from the steeper roads near Topsham, and partially because I'd forgotten about the ancient rule about Never Wear Jeans When Cycling and was therefore saddlesore.
Last Saturday, I was footsore instead: we spent several hours looking in every window in Hatton Gardens (London's diamond market) for the bling ring. It is rather strange to try on a two grand ring and wander out into the street with it because the entire area has its own security. In one stall in a traders market, the chap behind the counter gave me a very effective lesson in gemstones which explains why I think diamond-only rings look like cheap paste on me. He got me to hold out my hand, palm-down, and placed different gems against my fingers. Seeing the coloured gems, the rubies and garnets and sapphires, against my skin tone made it obvious I need the colour. An awful lot of the jewellery in the shops looked, as I put it, "a bit Elizabeth Duke". I just genuinely don't get why some of the stuff is seen as attractive: it's all too shiny and bright and over-eager. So we're still deciding on a ring.
Sunday, and we went to see Peter, Bjorn and John at the Forum in Kentish Town. You probably know them through the irritatingly catchy Young Folks song. So did the most London yehyehyeh media tartlets in the audience, who buggered off after they played it part way through the set. So for once we weren't rammed in. Live, PB&J are noodling, rambling, shambling rock muso types with an utterly different vibe to their album. I'd been wondering if the Forum - a vomit-smelling* bear pit of a venue which also hosts School Reunion and the Church - was the right place for the expected fey Swedish pop types, but my fears were totally misplaced. Best gig of the year so far (I liked Lucky Soul more, but the media bores stuck around in that one). Recommended.
*this is the downside of the smoking ban: the smell of gigs has changed.
Labels: eep, exeter, gigs, woah mule
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Posted @
10:41 pm
on
Saturday, November 10, 2007
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Won't You Accept My Reward?
In order to push through a massive pile of paperwork before a mammouth work trip, I went into the office over the weekend. 3 hours yesterday, 4 today. In order to break up the monotenous horror of doing exactly the same thing at the weekend as I do during the week, I cycled in and back. Well, half-cycled, half-pushed. It just made it different to the normal trudge up the hill. As incentive, I set myself an amount to achieve after which I could treat myself to an ice-cream down on the quay. So there is the stem ginger and vanilla ice-cream I just scoffed, with Woah Mule! propped against a wall beside me.
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Posted @
5:22 pm
on
Sunday, September 10, 2006
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Pimp My Ride
After the business with the boiler at the start of last month, I found myself living on tuppence'ha'penny a day (or thereabout). This week I got paid, so naturally, my thoughts turned first to some gratuitous spending of cold hard cash.
Except my first purchases were:
- some oil for Woah Mule to make the brakes smoother
- some reflective bike clips because brown flared cords (I know, so Sam Tyler) and bike gears are non-mixy things
- a valve. Don't ask because it's boring and I will sound like the kind of bike nerd I am most definitely not.
I cycled home the other day and discovered I have perfected the ability to shout "oi!" at people who walk out in front of bikes. I was also nearly knocked over on Saturday by a 4x4 - laden with children and toys - deciding to undertake a car that was waiting to turn right and neglecting to check for bikes before roaring through the gap. This means I am also relearning my "swearing at cars whilst slamming on the brakes and getting the pavement-side foot to the ground" skill.
I overcame the practical, pimp-my-ride drift by getting some books (Maise Dobbs and Slaughterhouse 5 - the woman in the bookshop told me "Kurt appears to be having a bit of a revival" as she's been sellings lots of it) and some bedding. It's alarming how depressed I became with the option of buying books taken from me. I didn't even dare go into my beloved charity shops in case I saw something I had to have. Although I am going to one tomorrow morning to collect a Singer hand sewing machine I reserved in the week. This is so that I can resolve the cushion crisis (the new sofabed needs cushions but I hate paying for two bits of fabric quickly sewn together with some padding stuffed in) with the aid of my large stash of old striped cotton, wadding and some offcuts from fabric shops.
I've also worked in a palace and a Top-Secret-But-Everyone-Knows-Where-They-Are-And-What-They-Do government establishment (it has its own creche, which faintly boggles the mind), and completed a massive long-term writing project for the day job. I feel mildly lost without it, although new projects are looming already.
I haven't written up The Time Travelling Brief Encounter, the Justice Ship or the other short story I was idly thinking about. I'm slightly bothered that I can't remember what the third one is. Clearly, an idea which is either not worth fermenting or needs a lot longer in the dark before it is ready. I have read a couple more chapters of a friend's novella, but have yet to feed him back on it because that requires Thought. Tomorrow is MicroCon but thankfully I am merely a paying punter and therefore have had to think of nothing to say. Hurrah.
Meanwhile, Annie over on Going Underground has pointed me at
City Hippy which is a collaborative blog about ecologically aware life in, well, cities. I should read some of the archive there. And Law, who has lured me into watching House by her persistant love of Hugh Laurie, has written up a dire warning for any UK people thinking they might switch to the AMEX Nectar credit card.
Sébastian has merely left two large parallel fang marks in my hand. And licked my bread-and-marmite before I could eat it. I'm going to have takeaway tonight. Because I can. Mwahahahaha.
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Posted @
8:26 pm
on
Friday, March 03, 2006
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Back on the Saddle Again
Woah Mule and I have undergone our first real trial of riding today, and survived without me being thrown. I'm going to continue the cowgirl analogies, you know.
I started with a rather wussy walk into work, then risked locking it up on one of the racks in Bedford Square for the whole working day. Then by Central Library for a bit whilst I worked on the short story currently known as "A Time Travelling Brief Encounter" (oh, and that book is by Audrey Niffennegger, so I was close). Then up to my tai-chi class, riding this time. That was my first use of the new lights.
Finally, back from tai chi class, looping down South Street as it is less steep than Fore Street and takes me onto the Exe Bridges safely. This 2 mile ride home is either a 40 minute walk or 30 minutes on a bus, allowing for the usual waiting around for the bus to show, etc. I think I did it in 15 minutes. In the dark. In the rain. I am damp, but well pleased with the fact the only two breaks in cycling were to walk around a busy roundabout and to cross a busy junction where the cycle lane suddenly vanishes by the Riverside swimming pool. My crappy lungs didn't surrender and I feel like I've actually achieved something. Although maybe I should be having a hot bath after the soaking...
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Posted @
9:45 pm
on
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
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