So, one of the things I didn't post about here in the last week or two has been my bicycle situation. This is strange, since I've literally told everyone I've met.
Basically, I was the victim of a crime. A horrible, low, dirty crime. I live up more stairs than it is polite to invite visitors up, so I chained my mountain bike up to some pretty solid railings not far from my house, on my way to university. Perhaps it was inevitable, but one day I went to pick up my trusty steed and it was no longer there. The police don't seem terribly troubled, and I know she wasn't exactly worth much, but I still felt violated and pedestrianized.
RIP Arthur, wherever you are.
In my attempt to find a replacement bike, I checked out all the usual spots for second hand wheels - Gumtree, Freecycle, eBay. I feel in love with a vintage Dawes Kingpin, but the bidding went beyond what i was prepared to pay. I then decided that if I couldn't find a second hand bike I'd have to fork out for a new one - but one that could live in the flat - a folding bike. There are some at around £80, but I've been warned they are mighty heavy. I found one sold 'as new' on eBay, not too far from me - RRP £225, sold for £89. The scrooge in my was totally chuffed.
Apparently the man bought it for his wife who used it once to ride around the park and then put it in the garage. Doolittle, as I call her (after the American poet, not the Dr.), has some stickers on her mudguards which read 'I heart my bike'. The irony of this is not lost on me. I love her though.
The old King is dead. Long live Doolittle.
Once I had returned her to my flat I went into super-bike-girl mode and pumped up the tyres, put on new lights, oiled the hinges and tightened some wobbly bits (eg. that front reflector!) - and for this purpose I cracked on some Queen. The next day we went for our first ride to university, and other than some nervousness about leaving her unattended at the bike stands, I was pleased.
Last night she took her first train ride as I went to visit![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
forthwritten for dinner. This is the first time I've ever brought a bike on a train, and being able to hop off and pedal away is quite liberating. I'm not sure about peak times and packed carriages though, and it does mean you have to sit in the pongy toilet bit.
I suspect Doolittle was excited about riding the train. Or maybe that was just me.
I didn't really expect to love a folder since I've always been a mountain bike girl, but I think Doolittle will change the way I cycle - for the better. That isn't to say that my legs aren't pretty badly bruised from shifting her up stairs. My mother assures me that getting a new pram is like this too - it feels cumbersome and heavy for the first week or two.
Basically, I was the victim of a crime. A horrible, low, dirty crime. I live up more stairs than it is polite to invite visitors up, so I chained my mountain bike up to some pretty solid railings not far from my house, on my way to university. Perhaps it was inevitable, but one day I went to pick up my trusty steed and it was no longer there. The police don't seem terribly troubled, and I know she wasn't exactly worth much, but I still felt violated and pedestrianized.
RIP Arthur, wherever you are. In my attempt to find a replacement bike, I checked out all the usual spots for second hand wheels - Gumtree, Freecycle, eBay. I feel in love with a vintage Dawes Kingpin, but the bidding went beyond what i was prepared to pay. I then decided that if I couldn't find a second hand bike I'd have to fork out for a new one - but one that could live in the flat - a folding bike. There are some at around £80, but I've been warned they are mighty heavy. I found one sold 'as new' on eBay, not too far from me - RRP £225, sold for £89. The scrooge in my was totally chuffed.
Apparently the man bought it for his wife who used it once to ride around the park and then put it in the garage. Doolittle, as I call her (after the American poet, not the Dr.), has some stickers on her mudguards which read 'I heart my bike'. The irony of this is not lost on me. I love her though.
The old King is dead. Long live Doolittle.Once I had returned her to my flat I went into super-bike-girl mode and pumped up the tyres, put on new lights, oiled the hinges and tightened some wobbly bits (eg. that front reflector!) - and for this purpose I cracked on some Queen. The next day we went for our first ride to university, and other than some nervousness about leaving her unattended at the bike stands, I was pleased.
Last night she took her first train ride as I went to visit
forthwritten for dinner. This is the first time I've ever brought a bike on a train, and being able to hop off and pedal away is quite liberating. I'm not sure about peak times and packed carriages though, and it does mean you have to sit in the pongy toilet bit. I suspect Doolittle was excited about riding the train. Or maybe that was just me.I didn't really expect to love a folder since I've always been a mountain bike girl, but I think Doolittle will change the way I cycle - for the better. That isn't to say that my legs aren't pretty badly bruised from shifting her up stairs. My mother assures me that getting a new pram is like this too - it feels cumbersome and heavy for the first week or two.
