Riding to work has been a feature of many of the lists that I’m good at writing but not completing. Today I started. By pure coincidence it was ride to work day, so I guess in some sense, it was the best day to start.

I’m not a confident cyclist, particularly in urban settings. I grew up in the country, so there wasn’t all the traffic and road rules to contend with like there is in towns and cities, but I’m sure I’ll get better the more I ride.

This is the noble steed that got me there and back safely:

I am unashamed to say that I adore this bike. I love all the rattles it makes, the whirring and clicking noise the rear wheel makes and the slightly dodgy brakes and gears just as much as the colour, the handle bars and the noise the bell makes. It also makes me wonder, what is carbolite 103, and how could I have existed without it?

It was a Christmas present from my boyfriend, my part time reluctant knitwear model, found at a salvage yard. It makes me sad that someone sent this beauty to the tip, but their loss is my gain, I guess. I’m quite hesitant to give my bike a name, because as soon as there’s a name, there’s an emotional attachment. I gave my first car a name (Basil), and when my Dad took him away to get the gearbox reconditioned, there was many a tear shed, because it was like a friend or close family member was leaving me. I’m not sure that would have happened if Basil was nameless.

The only drawback to riding to work I can see is that I won’t be able to knit on my commute anymore. I could try to knit and ride, but I suspect that it’s illegal, dangerous, and perhaps a bit silly.