The Isle Of Wight & The New Forest, June 2003
|
This trip started oddly when we called in to
see my parents and I was too easily conned by my dad into
taking part in the Hereford Wheelers (Come-and-Try-It), 10 mile time trial (my first ever competitive cycling).
My dad was then 77 years old (old enough to know better, I hear you say?), and he was riding his Raleigh Lenton Sports, which is 55 years old. He lent me his superb 2 years old Mercian touring bike which I adjusted to somewhere near my own measurements. I decided to ignore the rubbing rear brake block and although I'd said it would unnerve me to ride without wearing a helmet, I managed. <<<< Dad and I trundling to the start. |
 What have you done with our son? |
One minute behind my dad I set off with a
mighty kick. Immediately the lactic acid bit back and it all seemed
like very hard work. The first 5 miles were uphill and I inwardly
cursed, moaned, groaned (and quietly whimpered!) as four or five riders overtook me.
Damn, this is awful!, I'm so unfit!, I must be
ill!, I can't even catch my dad! I used all but the very lowest gear to
pull up the hills and it was getting no easier. It was in fact getting harder!!
|
 |
I stopped, got off, pushed the bike forwards and the back wheel skidded! That big kick down at the start had
caused
the back wheel to move sideways and to rub constantly against the left hand chainstay, (that part of the frame which runs from the bottom bracket
to the rear dropouts). So that's what the whirring, dynamo-type
noise had been.
I tightened up the quick-release skewer, set off and it did it again! I set it very tight and flew away, overtook one competitor who'd overtaken me earlier and whizzed to the finish arriving shortly after my dad. How glad I was that very few of the people there knew me. Poor Jo had been expecting me to do a fairly respectable time. I whisked us and the bicycles into the van and away without waiting for the results(*).
My dad, (seen here wearing the "yellow jersey" of the The Hereford & Gloucester Canal Trust), is a fourth generation lifetime vegetarian. |
Only because of his remarkable physical fitness is my dad still alive. One sunny afternoon in 2000, after cycling 45 miles, he was knocked down by a carelessly driven Securicor lorry pulling out from a junction.
|
|
He had never worn a helmet. He had dreadful skull fractures. He spent seven weeks in hospital. For a very long time he looked dead. The photograph shows him on a general ward about 7 - 10 days after the crash (note: not accident, crash). There was no High Dependency Unit and subsequently, and probably consequently, dad developed pneumonia and suffered a heart attack. Three years later he is finally about as good as he'll get, mentally slower, physically much slower and, having failed a fierce DVLA re-test, unable to drive. Dad is of that generation of cyclists an apparent majority of whom believe(d?), and he probably still does, that helmets are an uncomfortable imposition and that he would rather not wear one and be killed outright, than "cabbaged". |
Me, I believe that
1. Skulls are not as strong as roads, vehicles, lampposts, etc.
2. Helmets can save lives and reduce, (the severity of), injuries.
The lorry driver had a nervous breakdown, a divorce and lost his job.
Given the choice, (as one is at present), whilst a lorry collides with you, would you rather wear a helmet, or not?
(*) 150703 - I've just received the results - at 0:51:34 I was 39th out of the 40 entrants, nearly 2mins slower than my dad!!. (The fastest rider did 0:28:42).
Last week my friend's son, Hugh Carthy, did a not so hilly 10 in 0:29:30. The next day was Hugh's 9th birthday!!
 |
|
|
************
OK. Now we're heading for the Isle of Wight:
(Unless you'd like a quick look at Fritz's Frogs first?).