Insightful? I’m not convinced

I’ve often wondered why we ride to work. Surely the negatives outweigh the positives. What does our day involve? We wake up and pray it’s not raining. If it’s not, we sweat our way to work and then indulge in a second round of getting dressed. If it’s pissing it down, we chuck on the waterproofs and head out anyway. All to play hide and seek with a twenty ton truck.

I was brought up around bikes. I wouldn’t be surprised if I only used one inner tube in the years before my balls dropped, the amount of time I spent looking for bubbles in a washing bowl. My old man has ridden to work all his life. He’s gone sixty and still rides to work. He recently got stopped for riding too slowly on a dual carriageway. Did this set in motion my love of riding? Possibly, but I’m not convinced.

There are advantages. We get some exercise, save some money and avoid the stinking tube, but I don’t think that covers it. There has to be a love of riding. When you’re fighting through rain that makes a mockery of the amount of money you spent on that waterproof, getting covered by the sticky oily gunk that only London can produce, but still find yourself enjoying yourself, there isn’t really a hope of a logical explanation.

A friend recently asked if she could borrow my bike to do a test run to see if she wanted to ride to work and I happily agreed. I was surprised to see her return within ten minutes. Her explanation was simple. She set off, survived one junction, got a little bit further, but then realised she’d much rather be at home having a bath.

R