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Entry tags:
bikelight, streetlight, starlight
I just bought a bike. It was 25 quid. I wondered on the way over to see it whether a) it was a piece of shit, b) the owner was clueless, c) the owner just couldn't be arsed to charge more. It turned out a bit more complicated than that. The bike is lovely, but it's been stripped of anything that isn't actually bike. It has no light and no lock and no pump and no rack. I mentioned the lack of light and the owner said "Um, well, I've never cycled it at night." Hmm.
I rode it all the way back from Kidlington, four or five miles. The streets were quiet. Everyone seemed to be staying in out of the cold. Cycling past the cop shop with no light was a bit worrying, but no one noticed. It was perishingly cold, and I've barely moved a muscle this last week, and before long my legs were throbbing and my eyes were streaming and my cheeks were blaring heat, but I knew I was alive. Alive and mobile and not dependent on eccentric buses, and it was good.
Coming through the town centre I found a short cut down past Keble College, between building after building of fabulous prettiness. It felt funny cycling along the stone-flagged streets in my flappy black coat, in the dim yellow light - as if I wasn't there as myself but was acting in some sort of period drama. When I stopped at some lights to peer at my city map a white-haired man on a bike pulled up to ask if I was lost. I said no, I was figuring it out, but thanks. A tweedy young man with glasses who could have been Son Of Giles gave me a grin from where he was waiting to cross the road. The Radcliffe Camera - that round building which I think is part of the Bodleian Library? - was all lit up inside like a temple to books.
As I cycled past the floodlit dog-racing track, just before the house, a trumpet fanfare rang out through the speakers, out across the estate houses and up towards the icy stars.
I might spray-paint the bike a stupid colour. It needs a name too.
I'm playing at being a student, I know. But while it lasts it's a fun game to play.
I rode it all the way back from Kidlington, four or five miles. The streets were quiet. Everyone seemed to be staying in out of the cold. Cycling past the cop shop with no light was a bit worrying, but no one noticed. It was perishingly cold, and I've barely moved a muscle this last week, and before long my legs were throbbing and my eyes were streaming and my cheeks were blaring heat, but I knew I was alive. Alive and mobile and not dependent on eccentric buses, and it was good.
Coming through the town centre I found a short cut down past Keble College, between building after building of fabulous prettiness. It felt funny cycling along the stone-flagged streets in my flappy black coat, in the dim yellow light - as if I wasn't there as myself but was acting in some sort of period drama. When I stopped at some lights to peer at my city map a white-haired man on a bike pulled up to ask if I was lost. I said no, I was figuring it out, but thanks. A tweedy young man with glasses who could have been Son Of Giles gave me a grin from where he was waiting to cross the road. The Radcliffe Camera - that round building which I think is part of the Bodleian Library? - was all lit up inside like a temple to books.
As I cycled past the floodlit dog-racing track, just before the house, a trumpet fanfare rang out through the speakers, out across the estate houses and up towards the icy stars.
I might spray-paint the bike a stupid colour. It needs a name too.
I'm playing at being a student, I know. But while it lasts it's a fun game to play.
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And I too have been thinking about buying a bike, not for using to get around London as I think I'd die (though, hmm, cycling to where I work from where I live is by no means an absurd proposition), but because whizzing around Battersea Park on it might make a good exercise regime. You are allowed to ride bikes at high speed through crowded parks, right?
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Several of the boroughs offer cheap/free cycling-in-traffic lessons, which teach you things like positioning (take the lane, don't cycle in the gutter - makes you more visible & makes traffic give you more space), road awareness, Don't Go Up The Inside Of Lorries (biggest source of cyclist accidents), etc etc. Worthwhile for people who haven't cycled in traffic for a while. And TfL do fantastic cycle maps (available from their website) with signposted routes & bike lanes & suggested quiet routes & so on marked in.
And it is *so* much nicer than the tube. And more reliable.
[gets off cycling-in-London soapbox]
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Now that you've reminded me, and I've got a big book of road statistics in front of me, in 2004:
-Greater London (GL) had 25% more cycle accidents per head of population than Greater Manchester.
-GL had 10% fewer cycle accidents per head of population than Oxfordshire
-GL had 43% fewer cycle accidents per head of population then Cambridgeshire
Sadly I don't have the number of cyclists statistic that I'd like to go with the above (though I might look for it later on). This does seem to corroborate my friend K's view that Cambridge is way more dangerous than London.
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Can't find anything immediately on cyclist numbers, other than that they've doubled over the last 4 years in London. Waltham Forest claim that cyclist numbers have increased & accidents decreased in their borough (which matches what I've seen elsewhere, possibly on the LCC site, but can't find links to atm).
In general, my recollection is that measured per mile cyclist deaths are lower than pedestrian deaths, but quite a lot higher than public transport deaths (though note that public transport is significantly safer than any form of self-powered transport - the cycle figures are closer to the pedestrian/car figures than any of them are to public transport). But I can't remember whether that's in London or in the UK generally).
The other side of this, of course, is the health benefits from cycling - it's certainly arguable that they outweigh the risks.
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I think also lower than motorist deaths. Although I guess most cycling is in sub-30 traffic, so you'd be unlucky to get an actual death out of it. Obviously a bump is far more damaging to a cyclist than to a motorist.
Personally I reckon that the health benefits do outweigh any increased risk, as cycling's the only form of exercise I get at the moment!
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Where do you start looking if you want to get a bike, then?
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If you want to buy new: On Your Bike, on Tooley St (turn left out of that exit of London Bridge tube) are very nice people (they are running the bike maintenance course I'm doing atm) & generally competent. If you want to buy second-hand (may well be a good bet - next time my bike gets nicked[0] I'll be at least considering second-hand) there's ReCycling on Elephant Road (Elephant & Castle), or there's some more information on buying second-hand in London at http://www.southwarkcyclists.org.uk/bikebuyingadvice.shtml
Hybrid probably better bet than a mountain bike in London; you could also think about getting a road bike. I didn't last time because I was concerned about thin tyres getting more punctures/not handling potholes well, but I'm informed by other folk who ride them that this isn't a problem, & they *are* faster (because lighter). Zoom! (again, next time my bike gets nicked I'll almost certainly go for a road bike)
[0] I have two locks, am fanatical about locking *to* things, & virtually never leave my bike outside overnight, but am pretty pessimistic about the fact that sooner or later someone will have away with it :-/
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And a hybrid sounds like it might be best - I'm quite scared of "fast"!
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You also missed out on the new Sackler library, which is for Classics. It's another round library, which doesn't have enough shelving, floods when it rains and the front (metal) door gets too hot to touch in summer. Isn't Oxford wonderful? ;)
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Ah, days of crappy bikes. The anti-helmet lobby warn that helmets make one feel safe taking risks, but I'll never feel wholly safe on my bottom-of-the-range tin-opener, fortunately.
There are recumbent bicycles for hire in Battersea Park!
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Barstewards! Humanities gets all the best buildings.
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