first published
25th May 2000

Part two

I do consider myself a safe cyclist, despite rarely using lights and delighting in swerving between slower moving traffic in making full use of the distinct advantage I possess on a bicycle in getting from A to B quicker in towns and cities than alternative forms of transport. I have only ever had three accidents on the road*, all of which I quite obstinately (of course) maintain were more someone or something else’s fault rather than my own!

The only incident to involve another unsuspecting cyclist occurred one sunny summer afternoon when cycling back the short distance from a friend’s house through the housing estate in Brentford and only yards from my front door. I had been playing beach volleyball (what in London? well near enough!) and was suitably casually attired in flip-flops, shorts and a t-shirt when up ahead, as was not unusual in the holidays, a group of kids were idling on bikes spread across the road. I slowed down upon approaching and had passed through the rabble, all except for a diminutive 4 year old on her bike who was facing in the same direction as myself. Without warning or even looking she pushed herself into the middle of the road directly into my path. With no time to stop, I bailed over the front of my handlebars, pushing my bike to one side in a gallant attempt to avoid running the little girl over completely and ended up straddling the bemused youngster with both of us and our bikes in an untidy heap. After dusting ourselves down she had escaped with little more than shock, whereas I, with significantly further to fall and all the grace and poise of an elephant on ball bearings had sustained cuts and scrapes to hands knees and toes. Not disastrous but particularly painful in my severely casual state which meant it was impossible for me to wear shoes for a week!

The second occasion on which I had cause to become separated from my bike in full flow occurred when cycling back from a pub in Taunton after consuming one or two ales. Having successfully negotiated the town centre, the final stretch of road lead only to this friends house, bisecting a field upon which it ran flat across. With the farmhouse and rest of the buildings illuminated in the distance, my friend decided to sprint past and entice me into a race. My competitive (but not tragically competitive) spirit was stirred and spurred me into action and on returning the compliment I was looking behind encouraging my now pursuer to overtake me once again. Immediately on facing forwards I came to a sudden and abrupt halt or rather vault as I crashed broadside into a rather substantial and immovable sheep sending me cartwheeling over the handlebars!

Dazed and confused due to a combination of the surprise and suddenness of the incident when mixed with the somersaulting of several pints of bitter, I picked myself up to hoots of laughter, glad that only one person actually witnessed in the semi-dark what must indeed have been a quite spectacular and comical sight. By the time my head had stopped spinning the sheep had retired to the less dangerous vicinity of the adjacent green pasture, apparently none the worse for wear, however I had sustained a torn sweatshirt, bloodied elbows and hands and a buckled front wheel that now resembled a taco!

Understandably quite taken aback by this brief encounter with the wooly kind, I thought nothing more of the unfortunate animal that was unwittingly at the centre of the whole escapade until a week or so later when friends and associates at college started to refer to me not by name (which was not that unusual considering the variety of colourful nicknames people seemed fit to bestow upon me) but as "Sheep Murderer!" It transpired that this so called friend had been spreading the rumour that in the collision I had killed one of her fathers sheep. I denied this claim most vehemently, attempting to persuade people of my semi-vegetarian ethics and persuasions, and failing that I was quite adamant that I was the one who had almost certainly come worse off out of the two. However despite my strong beliefs in my own integrity and story, if you are placed in the situation where enough people tell you the same thing, you start to doubt even the most certain of facts.

The whole charade finally came to a head at the girls 18th birthday bash around three weeks later when as I was more than a little apprehensive about meeting the girls father as I had not phoned up or returned to the house since. To address the matter sooner rather than later I quickly breached the subject only to be told that I had been the object of an elaborate and extensive hoax! A sense of relief as opposed to embarrassment or anger over-whelmed me, but as it was Melissa’s birthday immediate revenge in any manifestation was out of the question although I did promise us both that I would find some way of repaying her - I still haven’t forgotten!!

My only other and so far as my cycling is concerned decisive accident happened 11 years ago just along from the A-level college at which I was currently studying. At the time I possessed a trusty and in those days much more common racing style bike which transported me come rain or shine the 4 miles each way from my village to the other side of Taunton. On this particular afternoon it was just past 4 o’clock and college had finished for the day. Students were filing out in their droves as I exited the main gates and headed up the hill towards the centre of town.

A little way ahead, a removals van was parked flush against the curb with ample room for traffic to pass by easily in both directions. Looking over my shoulder I accelerated to ease between vehicles and ensure that I was not going to be trapped between the stationary van and an advancing car. Upon returning to face forwards, to my horror, a middle aged lady in her Metro had, unlike the half dozen or so other cars before, in her wisdom decided to stop. With my fingers out of reach of my breaks and with insufficient room and time to swerve or stop I ploughed headlong into the back windscreen and on being propelled forward from the saddle the top half of my body was smeared across the rear of her car whilst my midrif careered into the protruding stem causing me untold pain in the most sensitive of areas and a severe winding. Quite helpless I collapsed against the pavement where passing students with their shoulder bags and lever arch files had to almost climb over me whilst laughing and looking down at the doubled up heap on the ground. None however offered to help, except the woman whose car I had just hit! Upon lifting me off the floor I hobbled over to my stricken bike and saw that it was in a worse state than my battered self - the frame having snapped in two places and the wheels were bent to such an extent that it was sadly unpushable, let alone unridable.

Taking pity, or rather feeling a little guilty at the part she had played in the accident, both myself and the crumpled bicycle which could now much more easily be accommodated in the back of a car were kindly taken home. Upon my arrival, I went to count my bruises and what had once resembled a fine racing machine was resigned to collecting dust and cobwebs at the back of the garage until a spring clear out would finally result in its removal. Now in need of a replacement bicycle, I called upon the expertise of Nick who had been the proud owner for the last couple of years of a new mountain bike, as the Quantock Hills rising directly behind our village beckoned me with the anticipation of adrenaline filled exhilaration that could only be achieved from such a healthy and vigorous outdoor pursuit. And so after a stationary Mini Metro and fate had dealt me a rather hefty simultaneous blow, so began my years of pleasure and touring on mountain bikes.

* At the time of writing, but not sadly at the time of typing which is being performed with one incapable claw of a left hand and two sore knees that seem to collide with the tray for the keypad following even the slightest of movements, I had only 3 accidents. Now having unceremoniously completed my fourth - a most dramatic and uncontrollable of falls, I shall attempt to tell another tale, along with my own views on and experiences of Chinese chain smoking doctors and their endearing health system to be retold at a later date. But to all intents and purposes I had only had these 3 mishaps and I still maintain that I am a safe cyclist!!   Part two