Winter Is Coming. Obviously.

Game of Thrones bandwagon title!

After two years in Tasmania, I've decided I enjoy all the seasons pretty equally. Especially as we actually have four so you never have time to get tired of any particular weather. Distinct changes in season remain a novelty when you're from Perth. But if I had to pick a favourite, I'd pick Autumn because the turning leaves, cool gusts and soft light combine to soothe my Celtic DNA. I love to push my face into the crisp evening air and inhale the promise of winter deep into my lungs. I love to arrive at my destination with pink cheeks and wind-curled hair. And I love to cycle in Autumn! The Turners Beach to Ulverstone Path seems to be at its prettiest during this time so Ginger and I were on it the second things tipped over into 'tights weather'. For me, not him. Although, no judgement if he ever wants to wear tights. Different strokes, etc.

I tried to take pictures in transit, with a lot less success than other bicycle bloggers. My rolling selfie game is weak. Also the front facing camera on my phone is not nearly as nice as the rear. (Insert bum joke here.)

Ginger over my shoulder.

I taught myself to arm knit off the YouTubes and
made this snood/Infinity Scarf.

Autumn colours and an excuse for scarf wearing.
What more could I want?

Hittin' The Ground. (Why I hate the Pashley Princess Kickstand)

Anybody who owns a factory standard Pashley can attest to two things:

1. The Pashley (Princess Sovereign) is a heavy bicycle, and

2. The included kickstand is six kinds of incapable of dealing with fact number 1.

Even without any baskets, without any front or rear load, the included single kickstand just cannot be relied upon no matter how much careful front wheel skewing you may take as a precaution. And the second you add any kind of cargo you'd better start leaning it against a wall or handing it off to a friend if you want to let go of it for a minute. As you can imagine, this makes attaching said cargo an exercise in bullshit if you are travelling alone. All the more frustrating considering the included back rack is rated to carry a child seat! Better have great dental coverage for your toddler before you trust that single kickstand.

Yes, many a time in the first blush of Pashley ownership did I blithely turn my back only to hear the tell-tale sound of gravity beating the kickstand into submission. It's gotten so I am adept at accurately identifying potential kick-stand failure scenarios and with a special kind of vigilance specific to the anal retentive I was enjoying a long period of incident free Pashley ownership - Until last weekend, when the Pashley surprised me with a brand new kind of failure.

I was putting the bicycle away after an invigoratingly chilly 20km through North West Tasmanian coastal farm lands (goose shit included). I began the Pashley propstand/kickstand ritual which is now automatic.

Rural bike path hazards.

Pictured: Almost as much shit as you'll get from the Pashley kickstand.

Standing on the left of the cargo-free bicycle, I deployed the kickstand on solid ground to the right. I then positioned the front wheel to 'maximum skew' so that it could not independently skew itself and send the bike toppling over towards me. I gave the whole thing a bit of a jiggle to make sure it was sturdy, held it steady for a moment and then slowly let go to unlock the door. (I have to do this every. Single. Time.) It was then I heard that familiar warning creak. I quickly turned to catch the Pashley, expecting to see it bearing down on me as usual but as I grasped the left grip I realised it was falling away from me, the bloody useless kickstand having failed to fulfil the most fundamental requirement of the single kickstand/bicycle contract. In a final indignity, my quick reflexes did indeed allow me to catch the bike by the handlebars but only so that I could slow its descent and press the front tyre against my shin where the spinning wheel did a little burn-out on my leg. I was glad to be wearing thick tights or I would have lost some skin. I was compelled to photograph its shame:

"You're embarrassing yourself."

It is now my mission to outfit the Pashley with an annoyingly costly and unavailable locally double kickstand but I do so with a disgruntled sigh, resenting the fact that it did not come with one when the weight and potential for human (and inanimate) cargo so obviously requires something more than currently provided!

Devonport Bicycle Path Picnic.

Last month Ginger and I decided it was high time we experienced both the Devonport cycleway and our new picnic blanket. So like the Middle-Middle classes to which we aspire, we bought some extra special treats from Burnie Farmers Market, packed up the basket and bikes and drove East to grab a perfect piece of the new Winter sunshine.

This is what a fortnightly Treat Buying Expedition looks like.
And also why I am fat.

Devonport (third largest population centre in Tasmania) has an almost fully formed cyclepath network, the council has a pretty decent transportation strategy and the vision to implement it, if not the funds to make it as smooth and continuous as Perth. The section we chose was the Don to Devonport trail, running from the middle of town out along the coast and finishing at the Don River Railway tourist attraction.

The middle of Devonport is not your standard town centre, it's also the arrival point for the Spirit of Tasmania ferries; luxury passenger liners sailing from Melbourne to Tasmania, transporting Grey Nomads and their caravans. You can even walk off the ferry and hire a bicycle or bring your own if you're up for some touring. One of them was in port when we arrived so we stared at it for a while. We also stared at the ugliest lighthouse I have ever seen.

Spirit of Tasmania, Pashley in Picnic Portage Mode™.

Be more quaint and less functional!

Sculptures on the Mersey River path.

We were both eager to have lunch sooner rather than later so I saved most of the route documentation for the journey back from Don. The path led us along the Mersey river through the heart of Devonport and out to the recently refreshed waterfront. There you'll find a burger bar, playground, toilets, beach showers and the bluffs. Also the attractive Mersey Bluff lighthouse if you divert a bit but we were hungry so we rode on.

The beach on the return trip.

The way there, where Devonport meets the sea and I photograph
shifty looking men exiting public toilets.

Briefly considered this beach picnic spot.

Once we left the beach, the path quickly became empty and wound through some rapidly changing landscapes. After the typical gum trees and shrubbery of the main beach we encountered these oddly manicured looking 'transitional' flora, still right next to the ocean though it was hidden from us by their dense canopy and the rise above sea level. (Even though we didn't seem to climb) They looked like they'd spent a lot of evolutionary energy adapting perfectly to the windy, salty bluffs. The first trip through was at high noon so they looked especially odd without shadows, I photographed them on the way home at about 4pm.

The rounded foliage gave way to an open view of the ocean and a brief flirtation with the suburbs before plunging us into some straight-up temperate rainforest. Here we started to descend. I wish I'd taken a picture of the zig-zag trail but the trees made it basically impossible and riding down it was far too much fun to stop. There were swoops and little wooden bridges all through it and I rode with a smile plastered on my stupid face even though the entire time I was dreading hauling the Pashley back up. This rainforest section of the path was quite narrow, unevenly surfaced due to tree roots and very busy with joggers and family strolls in some sections. I was pretty glad to have the weight of the Pashley rolling tank-style over bumps; although I discovered on the way back that a big enough bump will knock a hub brake right out of your front wheel. Fortunately the counter-discovery was that you can just pop it back in with your fingers.

Well after the zig-zag, a return to flat land.

Eventually the forest thinned out, the tree trunks became more spindly and we were expelled into the carpark of the Devonport Aquatic centre before returning to the trail. We were crossing train tracks still in use but there was plenty of signage on the official crossing points. Towards the end we could see we'd left the coast entirely and come up next to the Don river. On the way back I made Ginger hold the Pashley upright (fie on the included kick-stand!) while I took a picture of the afternoon view, wood smoke was sitting like mist in the valley as the sunshine waned.

"Hold my shit while I capture nature."

"Done."

At last we reached the Don River Railway leisure ground, just in time to see a delightful display of steam (not a euphemism) before 'Getting our Picnic On' (totally a euphemism). Next to a car park. Oh, well. It's a Car, Car, Car, Car World after all. But we had the whole place to ourselves and the banks made it remarkably peaceful. It was very tempting to fall asleep in the sunshine and we were very full of Ribena and cakes so we had a nice rest.

Don River Railway. We've been on the train. It's worth it.

Not using the creepy picnic shelter.

The not quite distant enough tranquility of the Don River Railway car park.

Idiots doing Picnic in public.

The Tourism Tasmania version.

The winter sun combined with my wool tights for a toasty fat bottom.

Another Tourism-ready view.

Sadly, we could not tarry because I had to get the Pashley up the zig-zag and back to town. I actually managed to do it without once getting off to push, though I've never before spent so much time in first gear! We reached Devonport with enough light to spare for a quick spin on a breakwater to mark the setting sun.

As far as you're supposed to go.
There were fishermen/women climbing over the rails anyway.

Public art unimpeded by railings.
(No, I didn't climb over.)

Mersey Bluff sunset before the drive home.

Ring My Bell.

Until I became the owner of a Pashley Princess Sovereign, I'd never really thought about bicycle bells within any context other than practicality. A bell is just a bell, right? It warns people that you are behind them and that's that - or so I thought. Riding the Pashley showed me that your bell can actually have a significant influence on your ride quality and impact your mood.

As cyclists we all try (at least I'm pretending that is the case) to be courteous users of any shared paths we have the privilege of using. I know I'm not alone in feeling some minor dread when I see a pair of headphones in the ears of the person I am about to pass because it invariably means they will not hear my bell regardless of tone or volume. In those cases I always try to pass them a bit slowly and VERY predictably, hoping that their peripheral vision will sense movement in time for me not to startle them. For all other shared path traffic the bell is your first impression, a polite cough clearing the way for your dick-move: Overtaking.

You know how it goes: You wait until you're in hearing range, you ring your little bell, the person hears and then reacts. You pass, you thank them, they might have a facial expression about it, you might have a facial expression about their facial expression. Either way, the sound of your bell can soothe their inconvenience or enhance their annoyance and I did not realise just how much until I owned what is gloriously described as a 'Ding-Dong' bell.

Interpret this how you will but 'traditional' women's bikes are generally more likely to come with a bell included. Road bikes of course come with nothing (a massive oversight considering their potential speed) because the weight of a bell might add milliseconds to a Roadie's Strava. We all no doubt recall the bicycle bell of childhood, your basic 'Ring Ring' sound with mysterious rotating bits internally providing noise and eventually rusting to impotence. Since then bells have levelled up and you may purchase anything from the cheap Ring-Ring kind to crazy-pricey but elegant Japanese copper bells that sound like they should signal the end of an intensely expensive meditation retreat. Rather than the Ring-Ring variety, included bells on modern entry level bicycles now pretty much all look like the bell that came with my Schwinn Jenny:

It's a thumb strike style, no internal moving parts to get jammed like the bell on my childhood bicycle. You thumb down, the plastic bit strikes the metal and you get a trifling 'Ting Ting' of perfunctory politeness, like so:

Thus I never thought about the effect my bell was having on the mood of the people I was passing. Some smiled, some remained neutral but they didn't end up in my spokes so I was happy. Then I experienced the Pashley Ding-Dong bell:

The first time I took it out for a ride on a busy Perth shared path, I noticed two things. 1. It was a lot louder and clearer as an indicator of my presence so I could signal earlier and, 2. I received a marked increase in pleasantries from the strangers I was overtaking.

Astonishingly, a few people even THANKED ME as I passed. And I only had one tit out! It made my passage through the city so pleasant that I felt suffused with community spirit even after my journey ended. This happened over and over every time I was on the Pashley. Most uncharacteristically, I started to feel like a ray of sunshine every time I rang the bell. It was like having a magic wand to make everybody more amenable.

After the success of the ding-dong Pashley and after moving to Tasmania I was excited to find a similar bell in unique Latrobe situated gift shop, Reliquaire. Imagine if the cleanest, most organised hoarders in the world owned a delightful gift shop and let you go on treasure hunts through it - That is Reliquaire and all visitors to Tasmania should check it out. (You're welcome, Tasmanian Tourism.) Thinking it would be an excellent upgrade for the Jenny, I ponied up just under $30 for the splendid bell and looked forward to gracing my fellow humans with some ding-dong magic. (Not to be confused with 'Dong Magic', which I think is what Harry Potter was about?)

The German 'Liix' Ding-Dong.
Electra also make giant ding-dong bells.

And for the most part it worked just the same. People would hear the pleasant ring and I would be greeted with surprise and sometimes a smile or even a 'thank you'. But for some people, the bicycle bell is a declaration of war. I don't think of the bell as being primarily a car-horn substitute - after all, you don't honk your horn when overtaking. But halfway through writing this post I was forced for the first time to use my bell as an immediate warning to a stranger who consequently viewed it as an offensive act of aggression. It was a man I had noticed standing still just next to the start of a shared path, staring intently at his phone. Suddenly, without looking up he stepped out 90 degrees to the flow of people and bicycles, timed perfectly to collide with my moving front wheel. I was startled and had a split second to react - reflexively, I almost braked but stopped myself as it would have created a different collision involving me and a car. Meanwhile, my thumb made it to the bell trigger even as my mouth opened to exclaim an, "Oh!" of warning/surprise. I hated to shock him but I hated even more to risk breaking his toes. His peripheral vision was alerted when we were about 2 inches apart and he looked up just as my lovely new bell was ding-donging (I could not un-press it at that point), stopping just in time to avoid my bike and for my bike to avoid larger prey. But from his point of view his awareness happening a microsecond before the bell meant I should not have used it and he shouted, "You don't have to ring your bell AT me!"

Actually, Dude. This one time? I think I do.

A Tisket, A Tasket, There's Disappointment in my Basket.

As much as I adore my 'Pashley Princess Sovereign in Buckingham Black', today I finally had to admit to myself that it has a problem. And I don't refer to the notoriously unstable kickstand - We all know about that. This problem might be unique to my Pashley (a bike shop problem) or it could be widespread (a manufacturing problem), I have no real way of knowing. A Google image search of fellow Pashley Princesses shows mixed results. My problem is this:

Can you see it? Perhaps if I put this here. Can you spot the difference?

Image from http://pashley.pl

 It's the damned basket. Look at the gaping chasm between original basket and basket rest, even with the straps extended to full length:

"You think you're cool with this but it's like bamboo under your fingernails! HAHAHA!" - The Pashley

As the shop where I bought the Pashley only offered one frame size I do not know whether the basket sizes up with each frame (but I have a medium, anyway - not a small!) or of this is an export thing or a cost cutting measure. All I know is that the basket is barely large enough to carry a modest handbag and that's part of the reason why I swapped it for a beefy Bontrager clip-on. It's the gap I find most annoying. It's such a pretty bicycle, so well proportioned and carefully accessorised until you get to the inadequate basket. A basket so puny, it looks like an after-thought.

I'd love to buy a properly giant, leather strapped basket to replace it. Unfortunately there is no way to source that locally and it's sort of hard to find web sites that will list the dimensions of any wicker baskets they might be selling. It's even harder to find a 'D' shaped basket like the Pashley original. One day I hope to remedy this problem but for now I'll keep hauling in the Bontrager, which despite being a handlebar mounted clip-on comes so close to touching the basket support that it gives the illusion of correct 'basketude'. Until then I'll put my disappointment and the original basket on a shelf.

Ulverstone to Turner's Beach

On an early Autumn day, Ginger and I laboriously transported the Pashley along with his Schwinn and formally introduced ourselves to the Ulverstone to Turners Beach cycle path. Immediately we discovered that this was a cycle route beyond our most bucolic dreams.

The most picturesque cow's arse you will ever behold.

The 'official' path starts at Buttons Beach and runs through to Turners beach - this is the section on which you are completely shielded from cars and it goes for an all too brief 8-ish kms. Though Bass Highway and its suicide cycle lane run parallel, you'd have to be mad or mad and in training to choose battling trucks over the blissfully smooth, direct and civilised journey offered by the Ulverstone/Turners path. Set well back from the highway for the most part, the path sits quietly amongst pastoral land, allowing you to forget that Tasmania's main road is actually quite close by.

The ocean is ever present to the North as you cycle, peeking out from behind bush covered dunes, winking in the sun just beyond a field fence and glittering through gaps created by little boardwalk entrances to beaches. The combination of sea and countryside interwoven is genuinely cheering to the soul. You cannot cycle on this path in fine weather and be miserable.

Ginger with concrete, bicycles.

There are sights to see (You cycle past a miniature railway!) and a different landscape each season. On our first jaunt in Autumn we paused to admire a small creek and lush pasture whereupon this horse galloped up at speed, eager to greet us.

The horse was so enthusiastic about our stopping, we came to the conclusion that he too enjoys the mixed use path because some people have probably been bringing him treats. He was particularly excited about my camera bag and very disappointed when I produced an inedible camera though he was kind enough to pose with the Pashley despite my lack of treats. I think the resulting photos really emphasise the classic 'town and country' looks of the Pashley. We promised him carrots on our next visit.

When not passing farms, the Ulverstone/Turners path nips out to circumnavigate a holiday camp site and nudge Bass Highway. Though it never actually touches Bass, it does cross the holiday camp driveway and this is the time you must be wary of traffic. Fortunately, it is well sign-posted and gives you plenty of warning.

Many mammals in Fat-bottomed contemplation.

The path ends where the railway line meets the town of Turners Beach, thereafter if you continue you are relegated to some of the roughest road surface ever tolerated in the gentle streets of suburbia. Your jolting skeleton will find that the road shoulder is actually the roughest part, with a clear and spitefully visible demarcation between surface for cars down the centre and surface for everyone else. The slightly more tolerable road mocks you from your bumpy place in the designated bike zone but as we discovered on our first trip, it's worth the skull rattling. Only a kilometre or so later you arrive at a café, ice-cream and gift shop directly opposite the beach at Turners. This popular spot is a pleasant interlude before the return journey and a walk on the beach is recommended. There is no official bicycle parking but there are plenty of poles to lock up against and alfresco seating if you are feeling separation anxiety.

After a few autumn rides we've since ridden the path semi-regularly, noting the changing light and landscape. Now that spring has really sprung, I look forward to seeing what else this delightful diversion has to offer. Even it's just more cow behinds.

Friends With Bikes.

There's a bicycle for everyone. Differences in budget, physical requirements and personality contribute to a delightful variety amongst the casual bicycling community, as evidenced by a sampling of my friends with a glimpse of East Perth café strip. Starting with my own bicycles:

Schwinn Jenny 7 Speed 2011 model.
(With another in the background!)

Pashley Princess Sovereign in Buckingham Black.

When bicycle shopping, my physical requirements are not too difficult to satisfy. I prefer to stay on the saddle and toe-touch stabilise the slightly tilted bicycle when at a stop rather than hopping off and standing astride as some people do. I am injury free from the middle down (some neck and shoulder problems) with reasonable strength in my legs thanks to life as a pedestrian. I am 175cm (5ft 9inches) tall, which is either average height or tall depending upon where you live. In Western Australia particularly, I am firmly average so it was very easy for me to find bicycle frames in my size. The Pashley is a medium  20" frame which was also the only available size in Perth. Being on the line between average and tall, I could also fit a 22.5" Pashley frame if it was offered. Some people prefer their bicycles to feel large, Dutch bikes are very good at this but the Pashley strikes me as being designed more compactly and I don't really have a preference in relative scale. Distance between seat and bars matters less in an upright bicycle as you're not stretching your torso forward to the handlebars so I'm happy with the medium. The seat post adjusts to fit my leg length and the bars also raise accordingly so the overall feel of the 20" Pashley for me is 'neatly tailored' rather than tight.

The Schwinn Jenny is a size S(Small) frame and was also the only size available in that particular shop. However, many Schwinn dealers in Australia offer bikes from XS to L so if your requirements are more specific, be sure to check bikeexchange. A sticker affixed to the seat post declared me at the very upper limit of suitability for the small size (It read 'Up to 175cm'.). Again, the seat is high enough so I don't feel cramped. It also has a handy quick adjustment lever which makes it great for lending to bikeless friends of most heights when on social jaunts. The handlebars stay at my preferred height as they require a spanner.

 

Ginger poses outside of Toast Café East Perth,
a popular non-lycra clad rider bicycle destination.

'Trek 1.2' 2011 model, 18 Speed Aluminium frame Men's Road Bike.

Schwinn Classic Al 3 Speed 2009 model aluminium cruiser.
Pictured at Burnie Beach. (Storm Trooper helmet not included.)

At 186cm tall (6ft and a smidgeon), Ginger is on par with the average Australian man of Gen-Y and a majority in the generations above and below (Each new generation tending to be taller than the last). His Trek 1.2 2011 road bike is a size 56cm/Large men's specific frame. As men have longer torsos compared to leg length, your average lightweight, modern road bike frame is scaled accordingly between seat and handlebars. Traditional style steel flat bar road bikes tend to be unisex with the smaller sized frames being suitable for most women.

Ginger's Schwinn cruiser is officially a men's frame but has a one size fits most construction thanks to the crank forward (aka 'flat foot') positioning of the pedal to seat post relationship. This means that at rest your feet are both firmly touching the ground, making it excellent for nervous cyclists and yet another flexible bike for lending to friends of different heights.

Australian Giant 'Via 2W', 8 Speed 2012 model, XS frame.
All Giant Via for women frames are slender steel with attached basket and an elegantly
swooping, mixte inspired split top tube. American models differ in features and colours.

Boo and Bike, a match made in very short heaven.

At a diminutive 149cm (4ft 11") tall, our friend Boo had some difficulty finding a bicycle frame in Perth as not many retailers in Australia offer truly smaller sized frames. (Just look at how big my small Schwinn is!) Initially she purchased a size S Giant 'Via W' 8 Speed 2011 model in black but even with the seat down as far as it would go, her toe was nowhere near the ground and Boo keenly felt the lack of stability when stopping. There was a half-joking investigation into children's bicycles until it was realised that Giant Australia do actually offer frames in an XS size. Sadly, the 2011 was not available in an extra small as the models were transitioning into 2012 editions (New models of common bike brands arrive mid-year) but fortunately, the shop of purchase was willing to exchange her small 2011 Via for a 2012 in an XS. Rather than black with silver floral flourishes, the 2012 Via 8 Speed was a quirky chocolate with pops of pink and hints of white, giving the whole affair a distinctly 'Rocky Road' vibe. It makes me happy when I see it because it reminds me of marshmallows at a fondue party. Giant Vias also come in 3 or single speed depending upon country of sale. If you are petite, Giant is worth investigating as their XS is in fact EXTRA small.

Mystery Cruiser, Mystery Hippie.

Perhaps a centimetre difference in height compared to me but definitely the same shoe size, The Hippie is also fortunate enough to be average in her bicycle requirements. Her cruiser was purchased from ebay; second-hand and already resprayed. Consequently nobody knows the make or model but I can tell you that it is incredibly heavy so it must be made of steel and also be the oldest of these bikes. As you can see, the frame shape is the same as Ginger's cruiser. Technically I suppose it's a men's frame but the cruiser style reads as unisex so nobody throws rotten fruit at her in the street for defying gender expectations. Like all cruisers, The Hippie's bike has a 'flat foot' position when at rest so fit is flexible and determined by comfort rather than measurements. Together, the cruiser and The Hippie work in laid-back harmony.

Despite differences in bike type, dress and riding style within my own circle of friends, all of our bicycles are compatible because the riders are compatible, willing to stick with each other on social rides no matter how relaxed the pace. Regardless of personality, height, leg length or comfort level there is a bike to satisfy all of us. Do the research, try as many as you can, add some pleasant people and you can't go wrong either.

So You Want to Get Back on a Bike: A Re-Beginner's Guide.

So many of us have fond memories of bicycling as children. So many of us abandoned our two-wheeled friends when we 'upgraded' to cars. Many of us would love to get back into bicycling for leisure or fitness, maybe even for transportation. We know have to start somewhere. Yet there is understandable trepidation - "What if I've forgotten how to ride a bike?" "What if I look stupid or fall off?" "What if I buy the wrong bike?" "As an adult, what will it be like?"


When we made our triumphant return to bicycling, "What's it like?" is a question Ginger and I encountered more than once from friends and acquaintances, even strangers. People like us who hadn't ridden a bicycle since their age ended in -teen. And one day, when asked that question yet again, Ginger replied with a revelatory simplicity containing such a fundamental truth that it has also been my answer ever since. I share it here with you in case it's just what you have been wanting to know:

"Remember when you were a kid and you used to ride your bike with a huge smile on your face? Well, it still feels exactly like that."

And it's true. Part of the reason I knew the Schwinn Jenny 7 speed was the perfect bike for me to get back into cycling was because even underneath my cautious awareness during the test ride, even having not been on a bicycle for many years, that feeling was there. It's the feeling Ginger got from the Schwinn Classic Al Cruiser and now with different skills, the feeling he gets from his Trek road bike. And I honestly believe that's the secret to buying 'the right' bike. You can't do that online - especially if you haven't been on a bicycle since you were 15. By all means, do your research online. I did. It's a fantastic way to discover what's available, what you might need and to make a short list. Once you have found a bicycle/s that you think will suit your local topography in terms of gearing and your personal preference in terms of looks and features, find a stockist and go to the shop wearing the type of clothes and shoes you intend to cycle in. Bike Exchange is a great Australian resource listing stock from both independent and franchised bicycle shops in every state. Run your short-list through it and see what pops up in your area. It's also easy to search for sale items and old stock either in your area or in individual shops. If you're on a budget, there are often heavy discounts on last years models and the only difference in larger brands between years is the paint job. In the case of more niche finds like Pashley, the bike will probably look exactly the same.


Really, the only in-store advice you need as a Re-Beginner is if the bike is the right size frame for your body and confirmation that it has the right number of gears for your area. A good bike shop will understand you don't want much more from them at this stage, just a bit of encouragement and disaster prevention. A good bike shop proprietor will not try to sell you something wildly beyond your skill level just to make a quick buck so be honest about your fears and expectations. After all, if they treat you well as a Re-Beginner, they're more likely to get your future business if you ever decide to lay down some serious cash and even if you don't, you'll have to see them again for your complimentary service so it's better for everybody to be friendly. Tell them what you liked about bikes on your shortlist (e.g. "It had mudguards," or "It could carry things.") and give them a price point based on your research. Get them to adjust at least the saddle and possibly handlebars to fit you so that they are not negatively affecting your test ride. This is a minute of their time, two minutes at most so if the saddle needs adjusting and they won't do it, turn around and walk out. As a Re-Beginner, you do not want or have to give these people your money. Once it fits you? Get on it. Test ride it. You don't have to go far but you do have to at least go out of sight of the shop proprietor and your spouse or your friend - whoever came with you to the bike shop*. Go as far as you need to in order to get a moment alone on the bike, to really be pedalling free of the expectations of anybody but yourself. Whether that turns out to be just around the corner of the bike shop where you can go up and down and around the same 100 square metres of car park until you're sick of it or out in the suburban streets a couple of blocks away, make sure you're cycling alone long enough to stop worrying about how you look or if you're doing it wrong. Long enough to do some turns, do some braking, stop and start and gain enough confidence to think beyond any residual anxiety. What you need is to ride long enough to answer the most important question: "Is this making me happy?" It will be an easy question to answer. If you feel giddy inside despite being slightly wobbly outside - if you feel like you're 6 years old going around the block for the first time, you don't need to know anything else.

It should feel like this.

*If you're at the bike shop alone, it's generally good form to leave your handbag/something of personal value with the proprietor so they know you'll bring their bicycle back. At some point you have to trust each other if you want a decent test ride. I personally find it easier to leave a human companion behind but I know that's not possible for everybody and there have been times Ginger and I test rode together and I left my handbag behind as collateral. On that occasion, the bike shop staffer even lent us the lights from his own bike as we were testing at night and riding away from the well lit street the shop was on. It's about a basic level of trust and respect so if you're not getting that from your Re-Beginner retail experience, shop around until you do. Don't let bad customer service ruin the potential joy of cycling.