Broken brake cables and other minor disasters

My brake cable broke! Disaster!
While getting my bicycle out of the car, I noticed the lever was a bit flimsy, and not really working.
I investigated, and pulled out the brake cable to see what was the matter.
By the looks of it, I have been spending the last five months using a thin line of rust to stop me from hurtling into traffic, people and stray animals.
Huh.
I took it out and replaced the brake cable with the one from my dad's mountain bike. Now he's the one who can't stop!

Another thing that went not-according-to-plan recently was that I fell off Caprice. It was slippery, and I was on autopilot, whipping around a corner in a hurry to get out of the rain, and she just vanished from beneath me.
Very embarrassing.
There was a passing family who checked that I was alright, which I was apart from a bruise the size of Asia. The little boy, who can't have been more than about four asked if I wanted him to give me bike riding lessons.
Thanks, dude.

Other than that there's been a good few weeks commuting to my super busy new job. Loads of people at work cycle too, which I guess happens when your work place is at the end of a cycle route and there is no car parking available. At least a quarter of us have cycled to work, and I get asked about it all the time.

Bikes and Trains

I've been super-busy recently - I got a job! Yes!
It means commuting to Cardiff a lot, both by bike and train.
I was very hesitant to take Caprice on the train in rush hour. She's a bit of a heffalump, and what with the Olympics and trains full of commuters, I thought it might be a bit rude. Why should I take up all the room when I could leave her at the station and just walk from Central station to Cardiff bay?
Here's why not: Jackass light and basket thieves.
The station I cycle to is unmanned and not in the greatest part of the country. I have two locks, one cable one for the wheels, and one U-Lock for the frame, partially because I am paranoid and partially because I sometimes lock Caprice in areas I just don't think are brilliantly safe. But I thought she'd be okay.
I came back one day to find I was missing my lights, and I came back another time to find my basket hanging off.
Clearly, I would either have to get a crap mountain bike with no accessories or start locking Caprice somewhere safer.
It's not even just about the lights, I don't like the thought of someone fiddling with my pride and joy. She's got a lot of sentimental and practical value.
There are bike racks right outside my building at work (no car parking though!) and there are security guards and people around all the time, so it's clearly the safer place to park up. And it's much nicer to cycle from Central station to the Bay and back than walk. There's a cycle track the entire way, and it's nice to sit down and take the weight off my feet when I've been standing up all day.
This meant I had to take Caprice on the train. Every day. In rush hour.
It turned out to be not all that awful. It was usually the way home that there was overcrowding. And under those situations it wasn't going to be great even without Caprice.
I have come across many different arrangements on trains.

One is the First Great Western London Paddington to Swansea high speed one, which is the worst.
You have to go right to either the front or the back of the train. Ask a member of staff which end to stand the first time. You have to be in position as soon as it rattles in, because it's quite the rush.
The bike carriage is by coach A, and I think it's at the back. Usually.
Get the door open, put your bike in the rack, ignore the straps. They are all useless, and waste time. Instead there are these wooden blocks that I didn't even notice for ages. Put one of those behind the back wheel to stop it from sliding out and falling over.
Now jump out the carriage, slam the door, leg it down to the entry of coach A, jump in, and breathe.
Number of times I have held up the train working out this routine - a bazillion.

Arriva are better because the bike is in the same carriage as you, so you can sort out the straps and everything when the train is moving. I've come across four different variations (Four! On the same route!).

 One, my favourite - the fairly modern one. There is a space for two bikes on one of the carriages. You jump on, slide your bike into the slot, and attach it with the horizontal straps. You do have to watch out though - if someone has their bike under yours and are getting off first it's a nightmare. Check with other bike owners where they're getting off.

Another is similar to this, but the straps go around the wheel forks, and are not really long enough. The bike bit is on the other side of the door so you can't see it, you just have to spend the journey hoping it stays up.
I've only been on one of those, and I think it was a special train hauled out for the Olympics or something. I'd never seen it before, anyway.

Another is one where there are fold down seats, that lazy people sit in and hog all the bike space. These people are awful. There are also a lot of push chairs, which is kind of fair enough. But still annoying. Sometimes there is a lot of luggage. Also irritating, and not fair enough. Moral of the story is that people are terrible and sit in the bike space, so you have to stand in the isle.
If you are lucky enough to get to put your bike in the bike space, sit on one of the seats, and have the bike lean on you. Unattended bikes in this space always fall over, and it's kind of embarrassing.

The last one is probably great if your bike is normal sized, but Caprice is hefty and doesn't really fit, and so the train conductor always makes fun of me. You have to put your bike under a shelf, luggage going above. It's a nice idea, but she doesn't fit, so that's fun.
The entry to this train is really narrow too, which isn't ideal.

So yes, taking a bike on a train takes a bit of practice to perfect, and most things I pick up from observing other people. If the train isn't too crowded, it's fine.
If the train is crowded, all you can really do is breathe in and hope for the best!

A proper review of my vintage Raleigh Caprice

First I should mention that this review is not for the hideous new version of Caprice you can buy in Halfords or somewhere. This is for a old school model, that you can get on e-bay or gumtree.

Caprice is beautiful. As I've already mentioned. She's the perfect bicycle to sail about on looking like a lady. The loop frame and chain guard mean that you can wear what you like - I've attended two interviews using her as my trusty steed, and I even got one of the jobs, so clearly I didn't smell badly, or get chain grease all over my trousers.

She's extremely comfortable. Even men find her delightful - my boyfriend, my dad and my ex-housemate-who-hates-bikes have all ridden her and were reluctant to hand her back, despite looking like idiots on a flowery bike with a basket.

She's ideal for picnics, casually swooping down cycle paths, ringing your bell with a tinkly ding-a-ling, and receiving complements from whoever sees her.

She's great when you cycle on the roads. Her upright position means traffic sees you, the basket means they're enchanted by you, and the patterned sundress you'll be wearing (not included) mean they'd rather crash headlong into traffic than come within six foot of crashing into you.

When you ride Caprice, you're clearly not a knob on a fixie, or a Lycra clad racer. You are a lady, a symbol of a simpler time, an elegant sign that says "Look! Riding a bike is something you can do! And you'll look much nicer than when you're clad in half a tonne of metal."

Drivers will see you and envy you, and then get onto e-bay to replicate you, and suddenly you've done much more for cycling than any amount of naked bike rides.

However, she isn't perfect.

If you're intending to go up lots of steep hills, think again. Hills are a nightmare. She's not designed for that sort of nonsense. Don't get me wrong, you can go up anything to a pretty steep incline, but you won't enjoy it. And there will be a hill you'll have to get off and walk on, covered in sweat, which ruins the effect of the sundress and the pretty bike.

She's not light. I don't know how heavy she is, that's something you should definitely not ask a lady, but when you factor in the basket full of cupcakes, and the mudguards, and the rack for carrying your picnic blankets, she ends up weighing as much as a small elephant. I hope she doesn't mind me saying this, but if you're looking for something to heave up and down stairs, you should be prepared to either get yet another work out or get a strong man to help you. Actually, this bicycle attracts them like flies to a muck heap, so that's a surprisingly viable plan.

Saying that, I am small, and I cycle up hills and lug her up stairs and on and off of trains, and I am 5"4' and about eight stone. So it's definitely viable.

It just depends how much hard work you're willing to put in to into looking glorious. And my goodness, will you look glorious.

You can fix the person, or you can fix the bike

One thing I read that stuck with me, was that in Holland they prepare their bikes for any situation. In Britain, or America, or any place where cycling isn't so ingrained within the culture, they prepare themselves. My bicycle seems to be a bit more Dutch than British in mindset, despite being proudly made in Nottingham.

Mudguards -
I didn't give rain a second thought. I didn't even realise mudguards were optional until my boyfriend said that I was lucky I could ride in the rain because of them. I began noticing all the bikes without them being pedalled around the place or locked up on Queen Street. Really? We're in Wales and you decide to go without mudguards?
Apparently the British thing is to wear waterproof trousers and a rain coat. Preparing the person and not the bike.

 Basket -
Seriously! How do people survive without a basket?
I got a bicycle maintenance book out of the library. I used my basket to carry it home.
It spent ages saying things like:
-Oh you need a lock, but they're so heavy to carry, and chains are so cumbersome, you'll have to put it around your waist. You can get special brackets for it though, so do that.
- Always carry a pump, you can get small ones that fit to your frame. You'll have to fit a bracket though.
- What about water? You can get bottles for I dunno, a fiver? And you can get brackets to fit to your frame to carry them.
-  Carrying things is so hard. Your back gets so sweaty with a normal backpack. You can get ones that are specially designed for cycling, they cost a fortune though.
- Aha, there are these things called baskets. they fit on the front and they're brilliant for stopping people from stealing your bike!
 Why doesn't everyone just grab the stuff they need, stuff it in the basket and go?
There's only so many brackets your frame has room for, and I never notice the difference in handling when mine is full of stuff or empty.
 Apparently the British thing is to carry a rucksack or a messenger style bag, but really. If you're a girl, get a basket, and if you're a guy get panniers. Problem solved.

 Clothing - 
On Caprice I find it simple enough to ride in anything I'm wearing, even the shortest of miniskirts. I find the basket and a strategically placed safety pin helps my modesty (Ha! Like I have modesty!).  She's a loop frame, so there's no problem with the upper bar getting in the way, and she has a chain guard so I've never given a moments thought over getting clothing caught in the chain. When my boyfriend rode his dad's fixie, however, he had to tuck his jeans into his socks. Hilarious, I thought! Why don't all bikes come with chain cases?
Because in Britain the rider prepares him or herself by wearing shorts, or Lycra or something.

The difference in these two styles correspond exactly to how the bicycle in viewed by people in the two countries. Holland hops on and gets from A to B. In Britain they spend ages working out what to wear that they can ride in, then go change, then see that it's raining and give up because they don't want a soggy back.
So really, one of the main things that the bicycle industry can do to make cycling a more appealing form of transport is just to fit mudguards to all bikes as standard.
And, of course, a basket.

City vs Countryside

I live in a small seaside town. I spend a lot of time in the big city though, and I am baffled by the difference in riding in the two places.
(When I say 'the big city', I should clarify. The capital city of a country that only has a population of three million. It's not exactly New York, but to a small town girl it's enormous.)
In my town, for example, I ride on the road. There aren't many cars, and I feel safe enough. The junctions aren't complicated, there are never any lanes of traffic to work out. There aren't even any traffic lights. I just jump on, pedal for a bit, then jump off.

In the city, however. Oh boy. I refuse to ride on Newport Road. It's insane. I did it once for literally about a hundred metres with my boyfriend right in front of me, and that was enough. There are so many cars, and shouty people, and people who are in a rush. I am not in a rush. I am unemployed. So on the really busy roads I ride on the pavement. I'm not the only one either, I go past people on bikes there all the time. I have to stop every five seconds because of pedestrians and it's really annoying. I'm sure I'm annoying them, too, but what can you do?
It's illegal, but the road is too dangerous. I've seen pictures of cycling infrastructure in Holland and oh my goodness, I wept with jealousy. If they want cyclists to not cycle on the pavement, they need to offer alternatives. Otherwise they're basically banning cycling and that's not going to help anyone now, is it?
Apparently there are plans for cycle lanes on Newport Road. Can't happen soon enough.
The pavement is brilliant in the rain, though.

Newport Road

Another difference is the cycle helmets. In my town I don't think I've ever seen someone wearing a cycle helmet. Why would they? For one thing everyone is about eighty and don't have many years left anyway, and for another it's just not dangerous enough to need it.
In the city though, it seems about fifty-fifty. There are people who go all out in their bright yellow waistcoats and their helmets and their Lycra. There are also people who look effortlessly chic, in dresses with loop frames as photographed on the Cardiff Cycle Chic blog.
I like to think I belong to the latter.
(Not that I am against cycle helmets per say, I just have never really been into them. Plus I only have 96p left in my overdraft, and even if I had money I think I'd replace my bald back tyre first.)

Another difference is security. When I go places in my town I only lock my bike about fifty per cent of the time. Usually I just put her in an out-the-way sort of place and she's fine. I will at night, or if I'm away for ages, or if she's in a really obvious place, but only round a lampost with my cheap cable combination lock. Which is the only kind of lock you can get at the LBS, which is also the garage. I googled bike theft in my town and there were literally no responses. And I often see bikes left unlocked all over the place.
In the city I use my D-lock and my combination lock through the tyres. I'm not taking any chances. And there are actual bike lock stands there to use, which I always do because lamposts are too fat for my D-lock. No-one leaves their bike unlocked, and I often see bikes missing their front wheel. It's mental.

I would rather cycle five miles in the country than five minutes in the city.

Porthcawl

Where are all the arseholes?

The Internet is full of stories about horrible drivers who deliberately try to rear end cyclists. Or who pass with just millimetres to spare. Or who yell things out the window. Or even throwing litter out into the road and hitting their two wheeled contempories.
I was a bit worried. Was getting on a bicycle the equivalent of painting a big bulls eye on my back?
The reality turned out to be quite different.
Cars pass me with so much space I almost wonder if they’re being sarcastic. They literally go off into the other lane, into the oncoming traffic just so there’s no chance they’ll hit me. People smile. Other cyclists too - I thought they wouldn’t be interested in my little vintage three speed, and that they’d silently mock my choice of bicycle. Not so - I’ve had lots of admiring comments from the Lycra-clad lot, as I arrange Caprice next to their thousand pound bikes on the train.
A white van did beep at me once though, but to be fair, my boob had just popped out.

Kelly Brook on a bicycle

Look how amazing Kelly Brook looks! I wouldn't have recognised her unless I'd read her name.
Of course when I put on a checked shirt I look like a lesbian, but Kelly looks super chic here.
Seat is still a bit high, but it's much better than this:

Same bike, a lot less class.
Note: a strategically placed safety pin makes a world of difference when it comes to cycling in a floaty dress.
Wait until you're sitting on your bike, then pin your dress so it resembles a pair of shorts.
And put your seat up!

Fixing a puncture

Caprice got a puncture!
It was a lot less dramatic than I had imagined. I thought that suddenly your wheel practically collapsed on you and you'd have walk ten miles pushing your bike to the nearest bus stop. Instead I realised it felt a bit squishier than normal when I got to the Boy's house and asked him. He confirmed that yes, I had a puncture. He pumped it up and I still managed to ride the seven hilly miles back from Bridgend though, so clearly, not that big a deal.
Apparently I couldn't just pump it up and go every time I wanted to ride though, as that makes punctures worse. Or something. I didn't want a gaping hole in Caprice, so I figured it was something that I really ought to get fixed.
Plus, the Olympic torch is passing about four miles from here, too far to comfortably walk and the money for the bus is about three times the price of a puncture kit. My dad couldn't give me a lift because all the roads would be blocked off, and there'd be no parking anywhere.
A bike is really the only sensible option in that sort of situation.
I told my dad I had a puncture.
His response was "Oh dear. It's okay, your brother will fix it for you."
My mum's response was "Better have a chat with your brother then."
I was suddenly struck by just how many people expected me to make my brother do it for me. And to be fair, I do have quite a history of doing that.
When given a choice between hoisting a very weighty Caprice onto a train and fiddling with the straps in the bike carriage, or wearing a low cut top and smiling at a man who'll volunteer to do it for me, I'll always choose the latter. It's just good sense, I thought, a win-win situation.
One time I was on a crowded carriage of a train, and there was another girl with a bike there. I had a dutch style bicycle with a basket, was wearing a short skirt and showing my cleavage, and smiled a lot. The other girl had a mountain bike, and a helmet on, and clothes that were definitely there to be practical and not to look good. But we were both girls with bikes. And guess which one had a carriage of men asking her if she wanted help, who offered to carry her bike off for her. And guess who said "yes".
But I'm not sure I want to be that girl anymore. Feminism happened. Girls can fix bikes now. Even girls who match their nail polish to their shoes.
So an hour or so ago, I bought a puncture repair kit, and I found a pump in the attic, and I looked up videos on Youtube which were all made for people with derailleur gears instead of hubs, and who had quick release wheels, neither of which I had.
And it took a while, and I got the carpet soaking wet checking for bubbles in a bucket of water, but I found the puncture, and I patched it up, and hopefully it's going to be fine.
Otherwise I'll just get my brother to look at it, I guess ;)

Using Sturmey Archer Gears!

When I first got my glorious Caprice, I was very concerned.

I was out of breath just nipping around the block, then I went on a ride down the sea front and had to get off and push on what I felt was a bit of a minor hill.

How on Earth was I going to ever get up that enormous hill going out of my town? I wouldn’t be able to even manage the flat bits afterwards without sweating like a rider in the Tour de France.

I didn’t really think about the gears. I tried to change into second, but failed and just figured maybe you weren’t supposed to change gears then. Maybe it was an automatic?

I didn’t know, but I wasn’t feeling optimistic about using Caprice for getting to and from the station.

Fast forward to three in the morning, whilst I’m asleep, resting my exhausted legs, and my phone rings.

It’s the Boy, drunk, who has just got back from a night out and wants to know how my ride went. I tell him my hill and gear problems, and my fear that I’ll never make it to the station, that it was all useless.

“There’sh thesh gears, schturmmey something, and you have to pedal backwardsh for them to work” he slurred.

“Sturmey Archer? That’s what I’ve got. I have to pedal backwards?”

“Yeshh”

“That might be my problem.”

“No, itsh that you’re a schilly!”

So there’s that. Thanks to pedalling backwards I am no longer pedalling up hills in the highest gear. And no longer getting off and walking! (Except the massive hill outside my town, but baby steps!)

I made it to Bridgend, and back, by the way. My next challenge is all the way to Cardiff! I may catch the train at stations closer and closer until I’m going the whole way.

Vintage Raleigh Caprice

I have a bicycle.

I HAVE A BICYCLE.

I am so excited. It arrived yesterday, from E-bay, and I couldn’t wait to stick it all together and try it out. Or at least, get my brother to stick it all together, because I have no idea how these things work, and he allegedly does.

It was getting dark by the time it was actually rideable, so I just went up and down my road. I felt like I was stood at the from of the Titanic with Leonardo DiCaprio’s arms around me, my red hair streaming in the wind.

She’s a ‘vintage’ (dunno how old) Raleigh Caprice, with a lovely loop frame and a basket. I have many aesthetic improvements I want to make on her, the most major being to paint her a light pastel blue. I’m going to get a scarf in a matching colour and we’ll look like quite the delightful pair, whooshing along down lanes and coastal paths. 

She (she is clearly a 'she', she has a basket!) has three gears, one of which definitely works - I've only ridden her on the flat so haven't tried out the other two gears.

This is the modern version that Raleigh are pumping out:

With the exception of the saddle and handlebars and basket: hideous. Look at that frame! What were they thinking?

My 'vintage' version is so much more elegant. It looks a little like this one:

Where did they go wrong?!

 

Today I rode down to the field and back on her. It was hard work pedalling against the wind, but I think this is a good thing considering how lazy and chubby I’ve been getting in the last six months. I'm not sure how well I'll cope with cycling to Bridgend though, I think it'll be a nightmare! I was out of breath just going around the block, but hopefully my fitness will improve and I'll be able to go actual distances.

I’m going to take her for a proper ride later, as soon as I get some lights and a lock from the bike shop around the corner.

Am I a hipster?

I’ve decided to get a loop frame bicycle. According to the BF this makes me a hipster.

Really?

According to him:

Girl hipster bikes are the dutch-style loop framed bikes, like Pashleys. They’re the sort of bike Zooey Deschannel would have, if she cycled.

Guy hipster bikes are fixed speed ones, that they use for racing on the tracks, with no brakes. I had never heard of this kind of bicycle before, and they sound petrifying. Hipsters ride scary bikes? Who knew?

And if a girl REALLY wants to be a hipster, she could ride a fixed gear.

But I don’t quite understand this. What if you’re just a girl who wants to ride her bike in normal clothes, like dresses? And likes old things?

Plus, apparently dutch bikes are getting super popular lately. If I were a hipster, surely I would be really glum about this, because it would mean I’m not as special as I’d like to be, instead of rejoicing at the fact that it makes them easier to attain?

I can’t be a hipster, I like Taylor Swift too much.

Buying a bicycle when you're broke

I need to buy a bicycle, and I have less than £100 to do it with.

Not hard, I thought. Argos has a bike for about £80. That’ll do, right?

According to the internet, no. No it certainly wouldn’t do, and I’d be mad or stupid to try it.

Everywhere I looked, trying to find advice for what to do with my small budget, I read the same thing over and over again. The Argos bike wasn’t really a bicycle, apparently, it, and anything else in that price range was more of a bicycle shaped object. If I bought it, I’d regret it in an instant. The wheels would fly off going downhill. I’d never make it up the hill coming out of my town. It would crumple and break and I’d end up under a lorry on my very first trip. I’d never get into cycling with one of those.

The advice seemed to be to raise my budget by at least £300.

There were no end of reasons why I should apparently do this. The bikes would be made to not only be ridden, but to last. I’d enjoy myself and ride more. I’d be able to tackle the giant hill I was dreading. Really, having a budget under £300 was stupid, and under £100 was laughable.

I’m sure they all had a point. I’m sure expensive bikes are wonderful, and cheap ones are comparatively terrible.

But here’s the thing – my budget isn’t low because I’m a cheapskate. My budget isn’t low because I don’t think a bicycle is important enough for me to spend money on it.

My budget is £100 because I am an unemployed graduate, who had to move back with my parents because I couldn’t find a job. My budget is £100 because that is how much of my deposit I got back off my previous landlady after paying off the bills I owed. My reason for buying a bicycle is because I simply can’t afford to spend £5.50 for a single to Cardiff on the bus every time I want to see my boyfriend, and £5.50 back the next day.

Thank you, bicycle blogs and articles, for your well meaning advice. However, I’m sure you’ll understand when I tell you no. No, I cannot spend £400 on a bicycle. No, it’s not because I’m a newbie who doesn’t understand quality. It’s because I physically don’t have the money in my account to do it.

Plus, how important is it really?

When I was a child, I didn’t ride around thinking about ride quality, and the size of tyres or how many gears my Raleigh had. I didn’t care about any of that stuff. All I cared about was that I had a bike called Max who I would ride around on and pretend was a pony. I doubt my parents spent more than £50 on him.

Of course, the obvious answer, and compromise, is to buy a bicycle second hand. It’s very hard to do in ‘real life’ here it seems, but the internet has some ideas. And so much choice!

Living near the stolen bike capital of the UK has some perks I suppose!

Max, my 'pony'