Growing Up Cycling

I hauled my mountain bike down to the shops and had my suspicions confirmed. My 2003 Carerra Algonquin, cannot be repaired. So once again I’ve gone a week without a bicycle. On the bright side, I have done a fair amount of walking this week. But it really doesn’t compare. I miss having the wind blowing over my ears as I zip by on my bicycle. Thankfully, my brother was able to obtain his roommates old bike for me for cheap, so I should be back riding it when I get back in Ottawa, after I fix it up of course.

As I write this, I’m actually on a Greyhound headed to North Bay. From there, I’ll be hopping in a car and riding all the way up to Timmins, Ontario. I grew up in Timmins, though I don’t really consider it home. It does hold a special place in the heart, but my home has been Ottawa since I first moved down there for school over a decade ago.

While I was growing up, I used my bicycle a lot. As a kid, I wasn’t big into sports. I didn’t even like hockey, as sacrilegious as that is to admit as a Canadian. I was in karate, I swam, and I was a part of a scout group. Those all fell by the way-side, one by one. First karate, then swimming, and then when I went to university, the scouting. Did cycling ever fall by the wayside? Unfortunately yes: during my first couple of years in Ottawa, and again during the most recent year when I was in Timmins (2006?).

But like everyone, it all goes back to when I was a kid. When I was really young, maybe grade 7, my brother and I got new bicycles. They were big, shiny mountain bikes. He got a black 18-speed, and I had a silver 12-speed. My brother was taller than me, despite being younger, and his bike was too tall for me, otherwise I’ve sure I would have had the higher-speed bike. We were both very proud of our new bikes, and our new bike helmets.

That was also the year we learned the rules of the road for cyclists in Ontario. We learned how to properly signal, where we were supposed to keep on the road, and that kind of stuff. We figured we were pretty cool, pretty smart, and given that all the other kids on our block were three or four years younger than us, pretty much in charge.

So what did we do? Did we ride the crap out of our bicycles on trails, getting full of mud, scraping our arms and legs like regular grade 7s? Surprisingly, no. We decided that we were going to be bike-police on our block. We gathered up the kids and taught them the hand signals and the shiny newly learned rules of the road. We also made it clear that it was required, by law, to wear a helmet (for those under the age of 10). We came up with our own ride-tests, and the younger kids seemed to have fun playing along.

This went on for about a week, and we glorified in our childish power. I was good at spotting people ignoring the rules, and my brother was good at catching them, and meeting out some sort of punishment. I think we had kids do a lot of push-ups or something. Eventually though, like all things in childhood, we got bored of it and moved on. I know my brother stopped using the hand signals for turning and the like pretty quickly. Me, although I stuck with it longer at the time, I was just a kid, and ended up doing what all kids do: forget the rules, I’m going to hit the muddy trail.

I look back though, and I realize what an interesting week that was, when we first got those new bikes. I can’t help but wonder if any of those kids still bike. Do any of them now follow those rules of the road that we tried to teach them when we were young and full of ourselves? I guess I’ll never know. But it’s good to look back on things sometimes, and brings a smile to my lips every time I think about how I was a bike-cop on my block in Timmins.

There will be no cycling stats this week. As previously mentioned, the bike’s out of commission. I should have a newer bike next week, and some stats to go with it.