London:
In 1983 I had already been cycling for 5 years. At this point in time my daily commuting would take me 6 miles (about 10km) one way from Camden Town to my job at White City.
Sometimes I would head North over Regents Park, but most often South of it. Those 30-40 minutes on the bike were the longest I ever went without smoking one of the 30 cigarettes I puffed on daily! Instead I was inhaling non-regulated exhaust fumes.
The route:
The route is a precarious one, traversing some of the heaviest traffic in London. Marylebone Road is a tough venue for a cyclist. It started where the Westway ended, a main artery from the West country and Heathrow Airport that continously poured its mechanical bile in to the center of London at an alarming rate. Queues were often long and irritated.
Many sights:
It is a road I had ridden many times as my school was located en route, just at the end of the red section of road North of Selfridges on this map below. In one morning I could cycle past London Zoo , Madame Tussauds, Baker Street, (fabled home of Sherlock Holmes) and if I rode a bit too far The Swedish church. Little detours were not uncommon due to roadworks. I often cycled on Abbey Road where the Beatles recorded the album ”Abbey Road” aswell as Notting Hill and Portabello Road to meet up with friends.
My bike route to work
Heavy traffic, heavy bike school:
Those cars, buses, taxis, lorries, diesel engines, Boeing airplanes , noise, Noise, NOISE! I loved it!
Darting in and out, my senses on red-alert, anticipating the moves of everything and everyone around me; the closest I ever got to an accident was when my pedal got caught, on a young Indian woman’s saree dress as she stood too close to the road, ripping it. ”Sorryyyy … ” my voice could be heard, fading as I kept going to beat the next red-light.
I didn’t know it at the time, but this was my schooling, how to handle a bike and how to anticpate situations, keeping my wits about me when all else was pretty chaotic.
The Local Bike Store (LBS):
I bought my clothes from the local bike store in Kentish Town called ’Chamberlains’ which also served me with innertube repair kits, (you repaired your punctures back in the day) tyres, chains, oil, bottles and bottlecages, in fact, anything I could get my hands on that was relatively cheap.
It was the messiest, most disorganised, dirty and oil-stinking premises you could ever enter: It was Heaven. I couldn’t get enough of the grubby fingernails, the oily-hands, the smell of rubber and oil. The ceiling was lined with tyres, rims, bike-frames, and here and there even a lightfixture could be seen sending shafts of light into the smoke filled air.
Chamberlains closed it’s shutters for the last time on March 8th 2014 after more than 100 years serving the community, to be re-branded as a Giant store. Read more here
My rides:
I did most of my riding around Camden on a brand new BSA Tour de Britain my parents bought me for my 15th birthday. Sometimes I’d make a trip to Surrey and Leith Hill, or North towards St Albans. If I went out purely to train then more often than not I could be found climbing Primrose Hill 10 times before returning home. Why? – Why not!
No gadgets:
There was no pulse to measure, no speed dial, no GPS, not even a helmet. I didn’t even own a watch. A pair och chord-woven gloves, black cycleshorts and a woolen jumper with rear pockets. Sometimes I would wear my old school’s rugby jersey away top, just because it was bright yellow. No phone, very little money and a sandwich wrapped in foil.
Hemingway knew his stuff:
Today I fully understand what I was feeling back then. The best part about going anywhere, be it to visit a friend, go to the shops, or cycle to school , was the cycling.
Today I rarely have a destination when I’m cycling. I always return home. ”Where are you going?” The answer is simple. ”Here.” The road is always the main objective, the road is the destination, let it take me where it will, it matters not, because when I’m on the road, I’m where I want to be.
I think Hemingway summed it perfectly.
It is by riding a bicycle
Footnote:
1990: I rode my first Vätternrundan. I can’t remember the time but I do remember the company I did it with. Mauritz Karlsson of Motala and I on a great summers day … and not to forget the evening. I think we started at around 11pm on Friday night, so as not to miss the finish the next day (there’s lack of confidence for you). We stopped in every depot and I recall a massage in Karlsborg that I waited 1 hour in a queue to receive. I had my knees and shoulders rubbed in Hästholmen (42kms) and Medevi (282kms).
My gear was an aluminium 10-speed Nishiki- Apart from my cycling shorts everything else was football attire, complete with indoor trainers. (The helmet I won’t even mention, though I may show it in a later post).
I was happy to make it back in time to watch Argentina in the World Cup. I woke up slumped infront of the TV, game over.
Shoulders and knees = Pain.
See you in Motala.
/Flemingway
