Freewheeling

 I think I understand now what it is to have your life flash before your eyes.

After trying three keys, brute strength, and then another key we managed to free the bikes we found chained in the back garden and wheeled them through the kitchen and out the of the front door. Both the bikes were too big for me so that to start I had to run along the road like a Flintstone until the wheels were moving and then jump up backwards onto the seat. And once moving, stopping was nearly impossible as it involved half leaping, half falling to the side. And a lot more swerving than I think was safe even for a suburban London road. Forgetting my companion’s youth because of his size and sex I let him take the lead, and then felt guilty about the seven years I had on him and pedalled past him and told him to follow.

 

We cruised past the gates of the Priory; its mock Disney white turrets standing dull in the low autumn light and then we were through the gates into Richmond Park, icy wind whipping across the open space and over my cheeks and ears. We cycled all the way across it, stopping when we spotted deer hidden like fallen leaves amongst the trees whose bare branches now looked like antlers. We had planned to have cake in the Petersham nurseries’ café but found it shut so stopped at a van selling drinks and snacks. I ordered a coffee to warm my hands, but N went for an ice cream. By the time we reached the main road again I had forgotten the perils of my tiptoe stopping and throwing myself rather lopsidedly down at a traffic light I heard a bus rush up behind me. My bike tipped right instead of left and I found my nose inches from the great red body of the bus as it moved past me. And there I was, wobbling in the metallic reflection, my life flashing red before my eyes.

Tomorrow I think I’ll walk.