Well, my first ride since 21st September. It’s been a difficult autumn and early winter, but today at last I had time, daylight and reasonably good health. I’ve mentally downgraded my recent “suspected cracked rib” to a “probably only badly bruised rib”, and my “man 'flu” (quite a nasty cold) is nearly better.
So, after such a long break, which uni should I take? The Muni would be too much like hard work after such a long break. Could I still freemount the Coker in public? I want to ride a respectable distance, comfortably, and keeping to fairly easy surfaces, so the 28 is the obvious choice.
However, It’s not ridden the 28 for months. It has been standing upside down in the spare room, and the tyre has gradually deflated. When I turn the uni over to pump the tyre up, I notice that the leatherette surface of the standard Miyata saddle is deeply marked with a “cast” of the thread from the end of an old barbell. Hopefully, the alleged padding hasn’t been damaged!
For those of you who care about such details, the 28 is an old-style Nimbus (US = Yuni) with the rounded Y-shaped fork crown. It has the original 700c x 32 road tyre, and 110 mm cranks. I like riding this set up as it’s always a challenge - you’re never bored with a hard skinny tyre and short cranks.
I park the car at one of my regular starting points, and take the uni through the gate onto the path leading down to the river. It’s a lovely day with clear blue skies, and temperatures just above zero. I’m glad of my sweatshirt and gloves, but at least I won’t end up dripping with sweat. I freemount first time (Yay!) and set off. Oops! I had forgotten that this path peters out into a thin line of trodden mud across a rough grass field. The mud is slimy, the tyre has no grip, and I’m out of practice… and look… look… see the many spectators… can you see the many spectators? They are smiling in gleeful anticipation of my muddy demise.
But no! Pride goeth instead of a fall (this time) and I keep the rubber side down all the way over the tricky bit and onto the solid path by the river.
From here, it’s an easy scoot along the river bank, relearning the feel of the uni. The 28/110 requires that bit more concentration than anything else I’ve ridden (except for my brief flirtation with the 24/89) because the wheel has virtually no momentum. Every tiny obstacle is a potential tripping hazard. Every burst of enthusiasm brings the risk of a faceplant, and every attempt to slow down carries the risk of the short crank flipping past the point of no return and firing me skywards. (Of all my unis, this is the only one with an ejector seat.)
As I ride past the City Ground, and on towards Trent Bridge, I hear a motor boat chugging up river. A voice from the boat cries, “Oi! mate. D’you know someone’s nicked your back wheel? Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!”
I’ve not heard that one for, oooh, well not since last time I rode. So, I wittily respond by slapping my forehead with a Simpsons-like “D’oh!” then, momentarily losing patience, I give my interlocutor the internationally recognised hand signal for, “You mean it should have 2?”
From here, I ride under Trent Bridge (there’s a pedestrian tunnel, so I don’t have to swim), and along the formal embankment towards the suspension bridge. I already feel at home again on the uni, and I turn quite neatly between the bollards, and step step step my way up the steep ramp and onto the slatted deck of the bridge. A family is coming the other way, and father says, “He’s lost half his bike.” The older child then says, “He’s lost half his bike.” Then the younger child says, “He’s lost half his bike.” Then father says to me, “You’ve lost half your bike, mate.” Smiling through gritted teeth, I thank him, and tell him “You’re 2, 3 and 4 today.” Curmudgeonly? Me? Well, it is bloomin’ Christmas.
After the bridge, it’s a quick swoop down over wet sloping lawn (much to go wrong here, but I survive) and onto a tarmac path alongside the river. Then it’s a slip slip wobble slip back up the grass to the roadside, where I follow the cycle path as far as the retail park. Here, at about 1:45 p.m. two days after Christmas Day, cars are queueing for the road leading to the slip road leading to the entrance to the car park to Toys ‘R’ Us. Are these the western values for which we are fighting in The Gulf?
The next obstacle is the underpass, which is a series of quite steep ramps down and up, and has walls adorned with much witty graffiti - or, for pedants, many witty graffiti. For no obvious reason, the underpass seems full of traffic cones - probably the result of some hilarious student prank, I shouldn’t wonder. It is clearly only because I am not interlec’sh’ly elite like what they are that I can’t see why getting totally Dixie fried and then putting traffic cones in inappropriate places is highly amusing. Oh, I feel so inadequate!
But enough of this biting satire. I emerge from the underpass and manage to cross the road junction without having to dismount. I decide to take an unusual route, and follow a driveway down towards a football club so that I can ride the path by the river. Unfortunately, this means riding a few hundred metres across wet grass, with the wheel sinking slightly. It’s worth it, though, because it leads to a hard path that snakes and swoops along the river bank, offering fun without too much exertion.
I see a heron taking off from the edge of the river a couple of metres below me. They’re elegant birds, and, even though I’ve seen hundreds, it always feels like a privilege. This one flies low over the river and lets out a cry. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a heron’s cry before. It’s not much to write home about: a sort of “Cronk!” - a little bit like a juvenile raven whose voice is breaking, I imagine.
From here, it’s an easy ride to the complicated footbridge over the canal. It’s all zig zags and railings low enough to ensure that if you fall, you will bruise your thighs and hit the water head first. Then, after a short burst along the side of the river, I arrive at Beeston Marina Tea Rooms, for coffee and cake. I’ve made it in one: no dismounts, no UPDs. I haven’t brought my trip computer, but experience tells me I’ve covered somewhere between 5 and 6 miles (say 6.5 km.). That’s pretty satisfactory for a first ride in months.
I decide to follow the canal bank back towards the car. This is one of my standard routes, and is almost completely level, and mainly well surfaced. However, there is one section where the surface is well rutted, and puddles have formed, and frozen. Ruts, I can cope with; puddles, no problem; riding beside a freezing cold canal, no problem. But frozen puddles in muddy ruts, next to a freezing cold canal, on a skinny high pressure tyre and short cranks? There’s some squirming of the tyre, and I have one or two “moments”, but I survive, and feel pretty pleased with myself. This is not tough MUni, I’ll grant you, but neither is the unicycle I’m riding!
Pleased with myself too soon? I reach the difficult hump-backed footbridge. This has a steep ramp each side, and there are rows of bricks across it which stand just proud enough to trip the uni. I think I’ve only once made it across this bridge without a UPD. Well, today wasn’t the second time! I do a UPD1 - that’s where I stay upright and the seat doesn’t hit the floor. I then twice fluff my remount before taking the coward’s way out and walking off the bridge before trying again.
After that, it’s just a matter of spinning the pedals, shifting my weight on the alleged padding of the seat, and pretending not to notice that it is getting colder and that I have in fact been sweating. There’s only one new challenge: a wheelchair ramp with a 180 degree turn in it that has been built since I last came this way. I always worry when riding near railings because if I UPD, I won’t fall cleanly. However, I make it up the ramp with considerable nonchalance, or possibly insouciance.
By the time I return to the car, I’m ready for a break. As a first ride for several months, it’s been great: I must have lost some of the finer skills, but the basics are still there, and, with the exception of the tricky footbridge, I’ve had a clean run. About 11 or 12 miles (say 18 km.) and some excellent post-Christmas exercise. I feel like I’m back.
