Its early morning, bump the bike down the back steps. On goes the high viz jacket, ditto helmet. Check for speeding rat runners (still happening despite 20mph and school street signs)
Take a deep breath and set off down the back street, very slowly. Congestion at the junction with Manor Lane, always cars jockeying in both directions to get through; danger of parked cars.
Make the run down Sunny Bank. Traffic lights stay red. “Been there long” says a taxi driver, pulling up alongside. “lights don’t register bikes you know”. REALLY, who knew?
He’s there…. lights go green. Adrenalin kicks in, Set off.
Cars and huge lorries. Air filthy. Eyes peeled for potholes and tarmac ‘molehills’. No room to move out on this stretch. Teeth and bike both rattle riding through dips and bumps
Finally… the safety of the pavement at the bottom of Briggate and onto Route 66. The RELIEF!
Certainly got some kicks (apologies to the Stones, Nat King Cole and whoever else covered the song) Ironic that it was all about a road trip.
- Hear it now for walkers, cyclists and public transport!
Kath Jackson
