The last
time I owned and rode a bike was in 1955. I wrote about it here. Not mentioned
is how that black Raleigh replaced my horse. This is funny as while in Mexico
City I was very good at playing bicycle polo on the fashionable street where we
lived in Las Lomas de Chapultepec. The street was Sierra Madre.
Our
neighbours across from us were the high society Rincón Gallardos. They had two
sons. Their father and grandfather had been generals since the Mexican
Revolution. I played polo with the boys. They were pretty good as they also dabbled
in the sport on their very own horses. Every birthday some misguided soul gave
me a croquet set. I would not have been caught dead with it. But the mallets
did just fine for our brand of polo and the wooden balls were close to the real
thing.
In 1955 my
mother moved to Nueva Rosita, Coahuila, Mexico. It was a mining town run by the
American Smelting & Refining Company. We lived in the American Hotel in the
hill overlooking the town. Since we were part of the privileged (in spite of
the fact my mother was only the school teacher at the Company American School,
two rooms they were, we were all given a horse to ride. We usually went cross
country (it was a very dry desert with lots of thorny bushes) to visit Stephen
Frazier whose mother had a large ranch. My horse was a young guy who was as
stubborn as a mule. Leaving the stables he would refuse to gallop and only
trotted. I was told he disliked to be separated from his mother. Going with my
friends to the ranch was a chore. Returning home I was always first as my
horse/mule galloped to see mother.
I finally
gave up on the horse and accompanied my school mates in my black Raleigh. I had
purchased in Eagle Pass, Texas a special viscous liquid that I squeezed into
the inner tubes. This rendered my tires almost puncture proof.
Once I
started high school at St. Ed’s in Austin (the school in Nueva Rosita went up
to grade 8 and I had suffered a year with my mother as the teacher), my bike
disappeared from my radar and I never had one since then.
This will
be remedied in a couple of weeks. I have ordered a bicycle from West Point Cycles. The folks there have measured me so that I will surely fit. At first I will be inflexible because of my arthritis. Should I purchase stirrups to get on?
From my
Yorkshire friend and compadre (he is
the godfather of my oldest daughter) Andrew Taylor I received this
communication:
Alex,
Buy the bikes. Among
the Cognoscenti, "Fixies" are
all the rage, but I think that having a few gears would be nice. Look into a
bike with themodern rendition of the old Sturmey-Archer 3 speed, with the
planetary gear in the rear hub; they are bullet proof, do not need adjusting
and look cleaner than the usual derailleurs.
A.
Andrew’s advice is good as he is an expert biker who is one
of the oldest and best long distant cyclists in Mexico.
Why am I now buying a bicycle at age 73? Rosemary and I are
moving in a bit to a street in Vancouver that is two blocks from a very nice
shopping district with restaurants, tea rooms, sports bars, a very large and
new Safeway, Lens & Shutter, bookstores, a Macdonald’s, a Dairy Queen and
I must mention the Transylvanian Baker that I will bike to!
The bike will have that hub that Andrew has suggested, a
wicker basket for the front, two blinking lights, one for the front and one for
the back, a rear view mirror and I have purchased the cheapest helmet as it is
just plain functional and will not make me look like a praying mantis. I will
order some sort of rack so I can pick up my granddaughter Lauren, 13, and we
can bike to the nearby Kid’s Bookstore or the nice Macdonald Branch of the
Vancouver Public Library.
I cannot wait for my shiny new blue bike.