Once home I soon discovered that with the study involved in doing the CA program behind me, I suddenly had a lot of free time on my hands and following my travels, a few extra kilos on the waist line. This was the point at which I decided to take up cycling. The only obstacle was that I didn’t own a bike.
Having never cycled regularly, I was not sure whether I would stick to my goal of being able to cycle to and from work a few days a week, and so did not want to invest in a bike.
But like all good tales in life, things always work out. The timing was perfect. As it turned out, that week there was a council pick-up in my neighbourhood. You can imagine my excitement when I came across this 1960’s Indie 500 old bike on the verge, curly handle bars and all. He was a bit battered and worn but still had a soul and Winston, that’s what I named him, and I, bonded immediately.
I rode Winston home, wobbling and squeaking but, with a bit of a cleanup and some new tyres, he looked grand and full of his old world charm and character. A real gentleman.
The idea was that I would ride to work on Winston for a few months and see if I liked it. If I did and was happy to keep going, I would reward myself by purchasing a brand new modern bike.
Needless to say, Winston and I made a perfect team. Before long, we were in love and were enjoying being out on the open road, with only the power of my pedalling to get us from A to B.
But it was all too good to continue. It was like in a movie when you just know that something bad is going to happen and a tragedy is going to shatter the perfect picture.
The love affair was shorted lived. We had been doing the “to and from” work thing for about 3 months, when I was cycling home one day, processing the events of the day. Everything seemed to suddenly go quiet and if this was a scene from a movie, the slow motion sequence and tragic music would begin now.
My ride came to an abrupt end when I was unceremoniously cleaned up by a car whilst navigating a round about near my home. Winston had been fatally injured and my pain at seeing his broken frame was immense.
An ambulance ride and a short stay in hospital later I was back home minus Winston and not too keen to get back on the road just yet.
Everyone told me to get back and into the saddle but I could not face the prospect of riding with someone else (not Winston). But, I did need to get moving again.
But for now lets take a moment to remember my poor Winston xx
Stay tuned ... ... ...
 |
| Yes it is tiny - but it hurt the most. |
No comments:
Post a Comment