Good memories ( and not so good ) of cycling to School.
- Thread starter johnnyb47
- Start date
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Great thread. I'm loving reading some of the tales of past glories here!
I never cycled to Secondary school as I lived very near but I cycled to Primary school quite a bit. I thought it was far but I've actually just measured it there, 0.6 miles! I remember cycling my purple and yellow mountain bike 'The Brute' (It might have been a Townsend as far as I remember) to school and parking it behind some dirty Perspex a the front of the school. The wheel wedged into tyre-width concrete slices set into the ground.
I never owned a helmet until I was an adult, carried no puncture repair kits, pumps or mudguards. We'd no hi-vis, cleats, specs, buffs, phones, GPS or never even carried any water or money but still went on rides for hours on end without a worry.
I never cycled to Secondary school as I lived very near but I cycled to Primary school quite a bit. I thought it was far but I've actually just measured it there, 0.6 miles! I remember cycling my purple and yellow mountain bike 'The Brute' (It might have been a Townsend as far as I remember) to school and parking it behind some dirty Perspex a the front of the school. The wheel wedged into tyre-width concrete slices set into the ground.
I never owned a helmet until I was an adult, carried no puncture repair kits, pumps or mudguards. We'd no hi-vis, cleats, specs, buffs, phones, GPS or never even carried any water or money but still went on rides for hours on end without a worry.
martint235
Dog on a bike
- Location
- Welling
My mum just patched them from inside and told me no one would notice. No one would notice a light grey patch (from previous trousers) on a dark grey pair of trousers cos "it was inside"???
Globalti
Legendary Member
I have become pretty adept at invisible repairs over the years. My most risky and audacious was shortly after my parents had had the entire upstairs of the house re-carpeted in a pale greeny yellow colour. I was making an Airfix kit and I managed to knock over a full tin of silver Humbrol enamel on my new bedroom carpet. I knew that no amount of scrubbing with white spirit would save me as a large amount had soaked in but luckily I had watched the carpet fitters at work so I knew what was possible.
I went and fitted a sharp new blade to the Stanley knife, cut out a piece of the spare they had left us and, heart in mouth, cut out a square around the spill slightly smaller than my patch. I maneuvered some sticky tape into the hole sticky side up, checked the direction of the nap on the patch and fitted it into the hole, bashing it down with a hammer as I'd seen the fitters do then ruffling up the pile at the join. My Mum vacuumed the room quite a few times and never noticed my repair.
I went and fitted a sharp new blade to the Stanley knife, cut out a piece of the spare they had left us and, heart in mouth, cut out a square around the spill slightly smaller than my patch. I maneuvered some sticky tape into the hole sticky side up, checked the direction of the nap on the patch and fitted it into the hole, bashing it down with a hammer as I'd seen the fitters do then ruffling up the pile at the join. My Mum vacuumed the room quite a few times and never noticed my repair.
You didn't go to high school in South Yorkshire did you?
burndust
Parts unknown...baby
nope, Central Scotland, take it, it was the same in South Yorkshire then?
EltonFrog
Legendary Member
Nice story CarlP - and only goes to show/confirm that the world/London can be a very small place. You never know who's watching
Come to think of it, I should have known better, I was a bit of an idiot. The bike, The Dawes Kingpin was bought by the nemesis/blue van driver/my mums bloke, from a cycle shop on the Upper Richmond Road ( had to pay him back, with my own money 10 bob a week, later it was 50p a week) I should have known I was his territory. The bike by the way cost me £38 15s 3d with front dynohub lights and rear bag.
Another memory, my mum and I finally moved away from Willesden Junction where we were living with my granddad to our own mobile home in Chertsey, Surrey. On moving day during the autumn half term in October 1971 my mother had put all our worldly goods in to the blokes blue A35 van, and filled it up so there was no room for me or my bike, so I had to cycle from Willesden Junction to Chertsey on my own. I just googled it, it was only 17.5 miles bit it seemed a lot longer than that. Going down the Great West Road in '71 it had a segregated cycle path, now I notice its covered in cars.
This thread is bringing up all sorts of memories that I had forgotten.
- Location
- London
Please tell the younger ccers that that top pic of the Great West Road isn't 1971
There is still a cyclepath of sorts on the Great West Road isn't there?
There is still a cyclepath of sorts on the Great West Road isn't there?
EltonFrog
Legendary Member
Please tell the younger ccers that that top pic of the Great West Road isn't 1971
There is still a cyclepath of sorts on the Great West Road isn't there?
Neither of those photos are from the 70's, just posted to give an example, there is a cycle path of sorts but the original has been taken over by cars.
wonderdog
Senior Member
- Location
- Canberra, Australia
The bike, a second hand Ashby (a Brisbane creation IIRC) - single speed, hub brake, hand painted silver frost, bolt-on seat stays, weighed a ton - was a poor second choice to my horse in country Queensland (the top right hand bit of Australia). Said horse was a champion jumper able to clear a five strand barbed wire fence and bolt into the top paddock, which he often did on a frosty morning when I went out with the bridle to catch him. So it was back to the bike ... come to think of it, my own personal Eroica Australis ... long, dusty, corrugated roads, a shoot of a hill that seemed to go on forever, past a big eucalypt tree with the magpies that would swoop you in nesting season ... hot as buggery when it wasn't freezing. The kids who lived out the west side of the school had it GOOD. The teacher would drive round the farms in her flathead Ford V8 coupe with dicky seat and pick them up. Aye ... luxury, we used to live in shoebox in middle of t'road.
Nigeyy
Legendary Member
- Location
- Massachusetts, USA
Been enjoying this thread and the responses. I didn't think I had a story, until from the dim recesses of my mind, a suppressed memory came back....
One day in the early 1980's I was cycling to school, head down with my feet spinning (but alas my mind wandering). I was in the middle of large village in North Notts where I was going to school, and I was on the last leg, heading down the road towards the school. The road had houses on each side, and a little Spa shop on the left. Well, like I said, I was head down, trying to give it some and approaching the Spa shop when I looked up... to see I was going right into the back of a parked blue Bedford CF van!
I barely had time to swerve; I shoulder checked the back of the van, and ended up sprawled over the road (and certainly no helmet back in those days, I was hard). Probably fortunate not to be run over to be honest. Anyway, I get up, and to my horror see that there is a fair sized dent in the back of the van. Quick as a flash, I look around, see no one, and to my shame (what can I say? I was a stupid teenager), got back on my Raleigh Arena and cycled off even faster. I figured whoever owned the van was in the Spa shop, and I wasn't going to hang around to be responsible for my own stupidity.
Well... imagine my surprize when later that day after I'd cycled home my Dad returned from work.... in his blue Bedford CF van. I'd only cycled into the back of my Dad's van, and the dent was even bigger than I thought. It had never occurred to me the van was my Dad's; he worked exclusively 30 miles to the north, so the last thing I would have expected to have seen would have been his van.
My father passed away about 3-4 years ago. I never told him about what I'd done and to be honest I was never quite sure if -and I had a suspicion of this -he actually knew I'd cycled into the back of his van. He never said anything, so of course neither did I, and I never had the guts to bring it up when I was younger. I confessed all to my dear Mum and brother and sister a couple of years ago to come clean.
One day in the early 1980's I was cycling to school, head down with my feet spinning (but alas my mind wandering). I was in the middle of large village in North Notts where I was going to school, and I was on the last leg, heading down the road towards the school. The road had houses on each side, and a little Spa shop on the left. Well, like I said, I was head down, trying to give it some and approaching the Spa shop when I looked up... to see I was going right into the back of a parked blue Bedford CF van!
I barely had time to swerve; I shoulder checked the back of the van, and ended up sprawled over the road (and certainly no helmet back in those days, I was hard). Probably fortunate not to be run over to be honest. Anyway, I get up, and to my horror see that there is a fair sized dent in the back of the van. Quick as a flash, I look around, see no one, and to my shame (what can I say? I was a stupid teenager), got back on my Raleigh Arena and cycled off even faster. I figured whoever owned the van was in the Spa shop, and I wasn't going to hang around to be responsible for my own stupidity.
Well... imagine my surprize when later that day after I'd cycled home my Dad returned from work.... in his blue Bedford CF van. I'd only cycled into the back of my Dad's van, and the dent was even bigger than I thought. It had never occurred to me the van was my Dad's; he worked exclusively 30 miles to the north, so the last thing I would have expected to have seen would have been his van.
My father passed away about 3-4 years ago. I never told him about what I'd done and to be honest I was never quite sure if -and I had a suspicion of this -he actually knew I'd cycled into the back of his van. He never said anything, so of course neither did I, and I never had the guts to bring it up when I was younger. I confessed all to my dear Mum and brother and sister a couple of years ago to come clean.
EltonFrog
Legendary Member
I realise I keep going off topic because my stories are not school based, but I was a school boy I suppose.
I remember a couple more misadventures, memory jogged by @Nigeyy ...my first accident on a bike, I wasn't riding I was taking a 'backy' on a friends bike down the back alley off of Old Oak Lane and the bike tipped up I fell off and my right hand slapped down on the cobbles, it blumen hurt 'n'all in fact it kept hurting, and apparently I was crying in my sleep, I was eventually woken up and taken to A&E where it was discovered that I fractures two of my fingers, they were splintered up and made to feel better and sent on my way.
Later, down that same back alley I learned to ride a bike, my mum bought some red thing with solid tyres (my 7th Birthday) for about seven bob from Portobello market, brought it home plonked me on pushed me off down the alley and I was on my wobbly way, I seem to recall it didn't take me very long to get the hang of it. About 18 months ago I saw that alley in the Film Eddie the Eagle, if you've seen it it's where young Eddie tries out his different sports to become an Olympian. Well that's where I learnt to ride.
One Saturday afternoon six years later I was riding the Kingpin down the Harrow Road in near Kensal Green, daydreaming a bit and I rode straight into the back of a parked Ford Escort, I went flying, a bloke came out of the Wimpy, checked his car, then checked me, no harm done just my pride hurt and no damage to the bike. Well hard those bikes.
I remember a couple more misadventures, memory jogged by @Nigeyy ...my first accident on a bike, I wasn't riding I was taking a 'backy' on a friends bike down the back alley off of Old Oak Lane and the bike tipped up I fell off and my right hand slapped down on the cobbles, it blumen hurt 'n'all in fact it kept hurting, and apparently I was crying in my sleep, I was eventually woken up and taken to A&E where it was discovered that I fractures two of my fingers, they were splintered up and made to feel better and sent on my way.
Later, down that same back alley I learned to ride a bike, my mum bought some red thing with solid tyres (my 7th Birthday) for about seven bob from Portobello market, brought it home plonked me on pushed me off down the alley and I was on my wobbly way, I seem to recall it didn't take me very long to get the hang of it. About 18 months ago I saw that alley in the Film Eddie the Eagle, if you've seen it it's where young Eddie tries out his different sports to become an Olympian. Well that's where I learnt to ride.
One Saturday afternoon six years later I was riding the Kingpin down the Harrow Road in near Kensal Green, daydreaming a bit and I rode straight into the back of a parked Ford Escort, I went flying, a bloke came out of the Wimpy, checked his car, then checked me, no harm done just my pride hurt and no damage to the bike. Well hard those bikes.
arallsopp
Post of The Year 2009 winner
- Location
- Bromley, Kent
When I was a little'un, the school run comprised two choices.
A: Walk with dad. The station was 20 mins brisk walk beyond the school, and the train left exactly 15 minutes after the school gates closed. Invariably one of my sisters or I would lose something, fall over, forget books, and generally threaten his onward journey to the point that we almost always had to run all the way just to give him a prayer. When a 5 year old can run two miles at an adult's marching pace, it builds strong legs.
B: Ride with mum. On the occasions that dad honoured his "I absolutely have to leave at xx:xx" and simply left without us, my mother, two sisters and I would ride to school. My mother had a shopping bike. She would stand on the left pedal and scoot. My elder sister would sit side saddle, holding on to the bars. My younger sister sat in a box for shopping on the back. My place was the opposite crank, which was pretty fearsome for mum's shins if she didn't keep the weight on her side. Fortunately I could wriggle the end of my school shoes into the bosses for the frame pump, and float all the way on 1/16th of paint and steel.
We kept that up until my elder sister went to the big school.
A: Walk with dad. The station was 20 mins brisk walk beyond the school, and the train left exactly 15 minutes after the school gates closed. Invariably one of my sisters or I would lose something, fall over, forget books, and generally threaten his onward journey to the point that we almost always had to run all the way just to give him a prayer. When a 5 year old can run two miles at an adult's marching pace, it builds strong legs.
B: Ride with mum. On the occasions that dad honoured his "I absolutely have to leave at xx:xx" and simply left without us, my mother, two sisters and I would ride to school. My mother had a shopping bike. She would stand on the left pedal and scoot. My elder sister would sit side saddle, holding on to the bars. My younger sister sat in a box for shopping on the back. My place was the opposite crank, which was pretty fearsome for mum's shins if she didn't keep the weight on her side. Fortunately I could wriggle the end of my school shoes into the bosses for the frame pump, and float all the way on 1/16th of paint and steel.
We kept that up until my elder sister went to the big school.
martint235
Dog on a bike
- Location
- Welling
You lucky, lucky person!!When I was a little'un, the school run comprised two choices.
A: Walk with dad. The station was 20 mins brisk walk beyond the school, and the train left exactly 15 minutes after the school gates closed. Invariably one of my sisters or I would lose something, fall over, forget books, and generally threaten his onward journey to the point that we almost always had to run all the way just to give him a prayer. When a 5 year old can run two miles at an adult's marching pace, it builds strong legs.
B: Ride with mum. On the occasions that dad honoured his "I absolutely have to leave at xx:xx" and simply left without us, my mother, two sisters and I would ride to school. My mother had a shopping bike. She would stand on the left pedal and scoot. My elder sister would sit side saddle, holding on to the bars. My younger sister sat in a box for shopping on the back. My place was the opposite crank, which was pretty fearsome for mum's shins if she didn't keep the weight on her side. Fortunately I could wriggle the end of my school shoes into the bosses for the frame pump, and float all the way on 1/16th of paint and steel.
We kept that up until my elder sister went to the big school.
My mum took me to school on my first day and that was it. After that I was on my own. It was about 15 mins walk to my first primary school and was noteable for the occasion the mid-afternoon bell was rung and Martin hadn't been counting how many times it had rung that day so assumed it was home time and buggered off. 2 4th years (god knows what they are called now) were despatched to bring me back to school. When I was 10, the school moved to the town centre and became 30 mins walk away. Secondary school was in the next town, Burnley, 4 miles away by bus. This was the Pennines though so we'd sit in class on a cold sunny day in January and word would come through at about 10.30 that all pupils from Bacup were to leave as snow was forecast. At noon, all pupils from Todmorden were sent home just as it started snowing. The 5 of us from Nelson were sent home once it was confirmed that the buses had stopped running so we had a 4 mile hike through ever deepening snow. The b******ds.
Globalti
Legendary Member
That brings back memories of the morning milk delivery at primary school - a crate of half pint bottles would be delivered to the classroom and left in front of the hot stove. By break time the bottles would be half warm and half freezing and those that had frozen would have a cone of snowy creamy water pushing up the foil top. I can still remember sucking the thick cream then the milk up a straw, some of it freezing and some warm. That has to be one of my strongest childhood memories.
