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199 pages, Paperback
First published August 24, 2010
I cycled across the USA, Australia, South-East Asia, the Indian subcontinent, Central Asia, the Middle East and Europe — effectively around the world.
I need a talismanic machine that somehow reflects my cycling history and carries my cycling aspirations. I want craftsmanship, not technology; I want the bike to be man-made; I want a bike that has character, a bike that will never be last year’s model. I want a bike that shows my appreciation of the tradition, lore and beauty of bicycles.
Velocipedes are pretty things to look upon as they whirl along so swiftly and gracefully, operated by some practiced hand. But did you ever try to ride one? It seems an easy thing to sit on the little carpeted seat, put your feet upon the treadles, and astonish everybody by your speed; but just try it! And don’t invite your lady friends to witness that first performance either. You mount the machine with a great deal of dignity and confidence, you see that all is clear, you undertake to place your feet in the proper position, and – the trouble begins. Your first half hour is spent [deciding] which shall be uppermost, yourself or the machine, and the machine exhibits an amount of skill and perseverance that astonishes you.
They ‘mounted their machines just as the sun was rising’ and, ‘pedalling bravely, they reached Mr Starley’s residence just as the clock of St Michael’s struck the hour [of midnight]’. It was a remarkable feat — 100 miles on primitive roads. Starley was 41 years old and he weighed 196 lb. Both men didn’t get out of bed for three days, but the ride attracted public interest.
The first competitive six-day race was held in the Islington Agricultural Hall, London, in 1878. Riders, on high-wheeler bicycles, rode round and round until they dropped, slept briefly, rose, and rode round and round again — for six days straight. There was no racing on the Sabbath. Phew! As sport, it would not meet with the customs of our times.
Lance Armstrong was wrong. I realize this is rich — telling the winner of the world’s toughest cycle race a record seven times that the title of his global, best-selling book, It’s Not About the Bike, is erroneous — but there you go. I’ve done it now. Lance, you don’t know what you’re talking about. It is about the bike. It’s all about the bike.
The bicycle saves my life every day. If you've ever experienced a moment of awe or freedom on a bicycle; if you've ever taken flight from sadness to the rhythm of two spinning wheels, or felt the resurgence of hope pedalling to the top of a hill with the dew of effort on your forehead; if you've ever wondered, swooping down bird-like down a long hill, if the world was standing still; if you have ever, just once, sat on a bicycle with a singing heart and felt like an ordinary human touching the gods, then we share something fundamental. We know it's all about the bike.
The bicycle saves my life every day. If you’ve ever experienced a moment of awe or freedom on a bicycle; if you’ve ever taken flight from sadness to the rhythm of two spinning wheels, or felt the resurgence of hope pedalling to the top of a hill with the dew of effort on your forehead; if you’ve ever wondered, swooping bird-like down a long hill on a bicycle, if the world was standing still; if you have ever, just once, sat on a bicycle with a singing heart and felt like an ordinary human touching the gods, then we share something fundamental.