One of the pleasantest things in the world when you’re travelling by bicycle is coming upon a nice old village pub late in the day when the light is fading and you’re weary and feeling the weight of the miles in your legs. It’s all the more pleasant still if the weather happens to have…
As though to make a liar out of me after yesterday’s jeremiad about our endlessly rainy drought, today dawned beautifully clear and cool and still – the perfect spring morning to break with routine and go for a brisk ride up in the weald. On the wing of that thought I decided this would also be just the day to take the Pegoretti out for its first run of the year. And so I pumped up its tyres which (alas, like me) had gone flabby over the winter, and set out for interesting places.
What a revelation it was to hop aboard that bicycle again after these few months away. I’d forgotten over the course of the winter how really lively and responsive the Pegoretti is, how beautifully it handles and how it invites you to put in that extra bit of effort on the pedals.
When I think back on all the different modes of transportation that have seduced me over the years, only the bicycle has ever remained true. The thrill of gaining my driver’s license barely outlasted my teens and a few college road trips, while the prospect of going to an airport, ticket in hand – once the very summit of glamour – has become like the halo before a migraine. Even the romance of taking the night train or sailing away on a long sea journey has turned out to be like the aroma of fresh ground coffee – somehow the stuff always smells better than it tastes. But forty years down the track, I can still set off for a bike ride with the same jaunty expectancy I used to feel when I was a kid and the world was wide and bright as a shiny new penny