New Bike

I’ve been here seven weeks. Approximately six weeks and five days ago, I told myself I must buy a bike. Fitness, time reduction and financial scruples were all factors in my determination to purchase a magical two-wheeled transporter. Well, yesterday, I finally bought one. I’m quick to act.

This is the stallion here. Just look at it. Set me back a wee bit, but no doubt it’s worth it. I could have got a decrepit old horsebox for £30 if I’d wanted, but decided to invest big. The reason: I want to enjoy cycling and actually get out of the city with it. I can’t quite do this on a 1970s knackered city bike with a flimsy wicker basket strapped to the front.

Today I took the new beast out for a spin. Initial results are quite positive. As you can see from the picture it’s quite a hunch-mobile, but I’m used to it. The wheels (brand new thank you Josefine) are pretty solid though. Cobbled roads and high pavements are a real pain in the arse. And may I add to take that literally; my lower pelvis is so sore I feel like those piles have returned.

So the positives: it’s fast, reasonably light and will do the job on long excursions. And now we can get to those lovely negatives:

- The seat: Harder than a 30-minute boiled egg, it’s so high I feel like a de-livered Prometheus chained to his rock, unable to hop off. In fact, I’m pretty sure the point nearly poked my own liver at one point during disembarking.

- The brakes: Needs quite a squeeze to penetrate any sort of life out of them, but generally OK. The confusing thing is their positioning: vertical rather than horizontal. I keep flapping wildly at thin air in vain attempts to slow down for fast-moving pensioners.

- The handlebars: They look pretty damn cool, and are amazing for straights. However, a bit narrow: in fact, any vigorous uphill climb that requires arm assistance usually results in slalom-style wobbling.

- The gears: Oh my word they’re situated on the diagonal crossbeam. Who the hell put them there? When I try to change gear it looks like I’m scratching my testicles. I still haven’t figured out how to use them properly (the gears, not my testicles) – they remind me of Top Gear’s infamous ‘flappy panelled gearboxs’ (again, the gears).

Now, of course it seems like I’m whining a bit… and maybe I am. But to be honest I’m chuffed to bits with the little beauty. In fact, I was so delighted with my purchase, that I decided a tad of supermarket shopping would be adequate reward.

120DKK later, and a full backpack, I was cycling back to my flat from the supermarket with a loaf of bread in a shopping bag, dangling off my right handlebar. I took to quick left turn onto some cobbles near Christianshavn tube station, which of course altered my centre of gravity somewhat. The bag swung into my front wheel, and as you can see wrapped itself lovingly round my tyre and breaks.

Because my front breaks were now rendered inactive, I couldn’t stop immediately. After ten yards little light brown fluff started flying from a hole newly carved in the bag. My loaf of bread was being sprayed all over the road.

When I finally stopped and checked out the damage I just had to take some photos. Luckily no one was around to confirm my utter embarrassment, which otherwise would be non-existent seeing as I definitely wasn’t wearing a helmet, sun glasses and reflective bicycle clips at the time.




Well with the loaf now pretty much ruined, I had no qualms with shoving it into my already crammed bag. The damage, as you can see, doesn’t look too bad. But I know that when it comes to me settling down to a lovely breakfast of marmite on toast in four days time, the taste of grit and oil may very well upset my morning.