Time to trust your timeless two-wheeler

Diesel and petrol are not freely available as we write, yet we are being told that there will be no shortage down the line. Hold on a minute, if somebody dams the river upstream, those further down the hill will suffer a water shortage. That, I’m afraid, is how it will pan out with petrol also.

One deranged human being, enabled by cult-driven henchmen around him, can cause the world to hit a cluster of crises ‘the likes of which the world has never seen before’ (to use a frequent expression of the leader of the free world). Ach sin sceal eile…

Anyway, what I sat down here to write is in praise of the humble Humber and the rugged Raleigh, the two most popular bicycles of my young riding days. If you never rode a bike, the best advice you can take from this week’s YCBS is to learn how to peddle without delay.

But before that, let us take a look back at the timeless boon of the bicycle.

In the Ireland that I first knew, practically everybody owned a bicycle and used it every day. From schools to sports fields, churches to dance halls, the walls outside would be propped up by layers of bicycles. All makes shapes and in many cases, varying stages of disrepair lined the approaches.

In that simple era of little crime for gardaí to solve, the worst that might happen to you might be a thief stealing the pump from your bike. That crime would be upgraded to ‘aggravated’ if the victim owned a bike with a ‘slow puncture’.

Going back to 1915 for a moment, would you believe that there were fewer than 10,000 cars in Ireland. Just think of that next time you are trapped on the M50. Today we have more than three million cars on our roads.

Cyclists have received some bad press in recent years for sometimes being reckless in traffic, but when there are fewer cars down the road (nice pun, Bernie) the cyclists won’t appear to be the problem. We’ll come back to that in a moment…

Modern bicycles may be ‘flashier’, lighter and more aerodynamically designed, but in principle, our two-wheeled friend hasn’t changed much in 160 years.

The first bicycle, at the start of the 19th century, wasn’t really a bicycle at all. You propelled yourself along with feet on the ground and prayed for the next downhill stretch. Pedals were added to the front wheels in the 1860s and the ‘penny-farthing’ was born. The chain-driven safety bicycle came soon afterwards, enabling mass transformation and social change.

Now here is one for the Gorls. Women were only allowed to ride three-wheelers around 1850… some old fashioned lark called ‘modesty’ or something. But then in 1894 the ‘Betty Bloomer’ was invented for women and off they peddled on two wheels. (Could that have been the start of it, Lads?!)

There were no brakes on those early bikes, so as you can imagine, there was many a tumble. Also, the tyres were solid rubber, so it was rough enough in the saddle – especially on pot-holed roads. Then in 1888, John Dunlop invented the pneumatic tyre, as in air-filled tube and tyre, and men were able to walk upright after dismounting!

From the first leg thrown over a saddle until today, nothing has changed with regard to combating inclement weather – other than effective rain-gear. I have told you this story previously, but it is worth repeating. (When a word-count has to be filled!)

Mick Forde, Paddy Reilly (God rest them both) and I were cycling home from a dance in Delvin around 3am. It was a windy night, with the gale in our face. Suddenly the heavens opened and I don’t ever remember being caught out in heavier rain. No overcoats – just dressed in our good suits.

There is a narrow, graveled bog boreen connecting the Moretown and Glaxtown roads. (Our short-cut). That is where we got caught – with not as much as a bush for shelter. Cycling into the storm we had to ‘get out of the saddle’ to fight for every inch of progress. Talk about a ‘drowned rat’ (ah Lads…!). I made it home to inside our front door (actually we only had the one door) and peeled everything off in a pool of water.

For a reason I never knew, that bog boreen was known locally as ‘The Railroad’.

That drowning was 65 years ago, but to this day it remains with me and has given me an expression I regularly use. When driving along in my motoring car and the rain is lashing on the windscreen, Mrs Youcantbeserious says it before I get to it, “It would be a bad night for crossing the Railroad on a bike!”

The rest of you may get used to it when there is no petrol!

Don’t Forget

No thoroughly occupied man has ever been known to be miserable.