The afternoon was moving to a close and I needed to organise something for dinner. I grab four calico shopping bags, my wallet, glasses and mobile, drop them into my pannier, attach the second pannier to my bicycle and ride out for a spot of quaxing.
Over the next ten minutes, my neighbourhood bicycle-scape criss-crosses my ride:
A young man, no helmet, shoots through the narrow path under the highway, riding a weathered bike… returning from the creek.
At the traffic lights, a retiree, tanned, wearing royal blue lycra, sweats atop his Italian racing bike waiting in the bicycle lane for the green light… getting some exercise.
Over the grassy park, a woman and man, maybe thirties, summery clothes, old bikes, helmet-free, faces filled with smiles, float along… on an afternoon bicycle date.
A woman beside her bicycle by the kerb, a bicycle trailer attached and a young girl in a school uniform, checked and crushed by the day, lounges inside the trailer, while middle-age aunt and young boy stand nearby… an afternoon visit, a chat, a laugh.
One, two, three young boys on small bicycles, weaving around the pine cones that scatter the bike path, the first waves, all smile hello… playing after school.
A woman riding a mountain bike, heading towards the creek, speeds by with an outrigger paddle sticking out from her backpack… on a mission, might be late.
A big body spins the pedals of a BMX bike, wears streetwear and a skateboard helmet… he’s coming home from work.
Small girl in fluorescent orange leggings that match her bike races along the grassy verge… on an errand to a neighbour.
A bearded twenty-something rides a woman’s retro bicycle, holding a fishing rod on the handlebars, a black plastic milk crate tied to the back rack with his skateboard strapped across its top, wheels up… man of many interests.
In all its diversity, activity and mild eccentricity, I love my neighbourhood bicycle-scape!
The heavens smiled on me today. A seventy percent chance of showers, the weather forecast read. Hmm, I have some people to meet for coffee this morning at Burleigh Heads, almost seven kilometres away.
It wasn’t an essential, must-go-to-at-all-costs type of meeting. It sprang from bumping into a friend over the weekend, realising it’d been a long time since we’d chatted, and followed with an invitation to join in for a catch-up with another mutual friend. Sounds great! And it was.
But before I got there, I was feeling a little delicate about going out in the rain and turning up damp and ruffled from the ride. Well, ruffled doesn’t really bother me that much. Ruffled can be spruced out with a little attention after parking the bike. Sitting in damp clothes, though, that’s not so easy to fix. It’s okay in summer when the weather is warm and damp clothes can help cool the body. In winter, it’s uncomfortable plus there’s the risk of catching a chill.
Thoughts of “do I cancel” ran through my mind. They didn’t last for long though. I’ve been looking forward to catching up. And I realised that if I didn’t ride, then the next cab off the rank, so to speak, in the scope of this experiment, was going to be the bus. There was no reason why I couldn’t take the bus, but you know I’d rather ride.
So I packed my pannier with a towel, my felted wool jacket, a beanie and gloves. I also added a flask filled with a green smoothie to drink if I needed extra fuel to keep me warm. It’s starting to sound like the winter is exuding deep cold! But it’s not. The Girl Guide that I never was, just wanted to be prepared.
I had dressed for my destination…
… warm leather boots, skinny cords, and a long sleeve woollen top with a scarf. To stay dry during the ride, I wear my raincoat and rain pants over the top to act as an outer shell. It’s not raining when I start riding but within a kilometre, the drizzle begins. I stop under the canopy of a tree and pull the hood of my raincoat over my head, expand the fit of my bike helmet and squeeze it over the hood. My hair might be a little ruffled when I arrive but it won’t be wet.
The drizzle didn’t last long. I made it to the café feeling warm and dry, spruced my ruffled hair, rearranged my scarf and headed in for a lovely time yarning.
Chatter. Chatter. Chatter. Rain pours. Umbrellas open and people hurry under them.
Chatter. Chatter. Coffee over.
Riding home. Rain pauses. Pedal. Pedal.
Safely home, the clouds open and dump a new dose of winter rain.
It might have been a rainy day but not a very rainy ride.
Yes, the heavens definitely smiled on me today.
Grey skies crossing Tallebudgera Creek
Rainy day rider.
View from my handlebars on a rainy day.
As we walked along the esplanade on the cool sometimes cloudy sometimes sunny Sunday, we heard the distant ‘ting ting’ of a bell from behind. It’s a shared path and so we veer to one side of the concrete while continuing to walk on.
‘Ting ting!’ it sounds again. Oh well I think, nothing more to do, there’s plenty of room for a bike to pass. ‘Ting ting’ I hear again. Yes, we know you’re nearing. All okay, there’s plenty of room. ‘Ting ting!’ sounds the bike bell again, close now. So we pause and turn to see a small girl, about six years old, dressed in turquoise jeans and turquoise hoody, topped with a helmet with ears and a stylised mane. As she rolls past on her small bicycle, she ting tings again. I offer a cheery “Thank you”. Not missing a beat, “You’re welcome” she replies.
Riding a bicycle as a kid is fun but it also has some valuable functions in the life of little people.
When I was a child, learning to ride a bike had a practical purpose. It meant I could ride to school. With only one car in the family and with Mum and Dad working the farm and its home, children who could ride bicycles were an asset. For reasons of economy of time and money, riding a bicycle was an important part of family life.
When I started school, it meant I could join in with my brothers and the other kids from the neighbouring farms for the two and a half kilometre ride to school. This had social implications for me. It placed me in the company of other kids. And that meant interacting, finding a place in that group. It meant that we looked out for each other as we rode. Like the day one girl was bitten by a snake and some of us raced for help while others stayed to care for her. Riding to school meant that we competed with each other racing our bicycles on the way home to be first to arrive at the wild guava trees to pick their sun warmed fruit for an afternoon snack.
It also meant independence. I could make my own way. I could travel quite freely, under my own steam. For kids, riding a bicycle is fun and it also serves function: in getting from a to b, learning to socialise and building independence.
For kids, riding a bicycle is fun and it also serves function: in getting from a to b, learning to socialise and building independence.
Independence is what I saw in the turquoise ‘ting ting’ bicycle girl as she rode along. Confident in interacting, comfortable in being on her own. And I saw it too in her younger sister who a minute later rode along on an even smaller bicycle, balancing very well with no need for trainer wheels, stopping to walk her bicycle for a few metres and then when her Dad offered to carry her bike “so you can walk for awhile”, shaking her head and straddling her bicycle with little legs clad in light grey tights topped with a pink tutu, a floral t-shirt and pink quilted vest, once more turning the pedals to ride on, under her own steam.
a bike for all seasons 