venta

Hurrah. Go me. For the first time that I remember, I've just managed to change an inner tube on the back wheel of my bike without assistance.

I mean, I know how to do it - but there's always been a bit where I've just lacked the brute force to carry it out by myself. Usually either getting the tyre back on the wheel, or getting the wheel back on the bike.

I've been taking the back wheel on and off a lot recently (the chain keeps falling off and wedging itself inconveniently between the cassette and the fork), so I've got the hang of that now. It turns out violence actually is the answer. And the tyre went back onto the rim with only a minimum of angry tussling. I suspect this means my tyre is getting old and floppy and will probably soon have to be replaced :(

But in the meantime: hurrah!

Next stop: work out why the damn chain keeps falling off. Which probably requires me to understand the adjustment of derailleur gears.

Also, note to self: do not buy inner tubes with Schrader valves. ( Why not? )

Yesterday morning, I rolled up to Reading railway station (in a train). I hopped off, dumped my bag in my cycle's basket, donned hat and gloves, unlocked the bike... and discovered it was ensnared in the neighbouring bike's lock. I could have broken it out, but it would have required dismantling part of my brakes. I didn't have the tools on me, and I would have been reluctant to take it on anyway - my brakes are a bugger to set correctly, and they are currently right for the first time in about 18 months.

I left a note saying "Please be careful!" on the other bike, and got the bus to the office. Last night, my bike was still captive, and my note still poked out jauntily from the gear changer.

This morning, the offending bike had departed and my note had migrated to my bike's basket. On the back of it is written an extremely profuse apology, and an offer to refund me any money I might have had to spend on a bus or taxi. It's signed with a name and a phone number.

Faiths in human nature restored: 1

(It's one of life's little ironies that yesterday I was somewhat bitter that some inconsiderate bastard had forced me to stump up for a return bus fare. Now that I've been offered a refund, I concede that £3 is not a huge deal to me, and feel it would be somewhat churlish and petty to demand it back :)

This morning I went through a red light on my bike.

I don't usually do that. Even though at the junction in question the traffic flow often means it would be safe to do so.

What was worse was that I pulled up to the line and stopped. On a green light. When it changed to red, I went. I was over the junction and off at the other side before I realised that that's not how these things are supposed to work.

I did subsequently successfully negotiate several more sets of traffic lights in a rather more conventional way. But still. Aaargh.

I have no idea what my brain was thinking.

A while ago I realised that, if I'm going to cycle safely along roads with people on them (particularly that bit in Reading which lots of pedestrians mistakenly believe is "no cycling") I need a bell.

I am a Serious Cyclist so I went to Tiger, the mysterious Everything Shop in Ealing Broadway, and splashed out £1 on a ( bright green bell )

Rule #1 of cycling to work: keep spare, dry trousers in the office.

It was sunny when I set off.

Bah. It is monsoon season in South Reading.

Since I moved to London, I've been commuting via a walk-train-bus-combo. My plan was always, once the weather picked up a bit, to move to a walk-train-bicycle-combo.

( Two wheels good, four wheels bad )

I'll let you know how it goes :)