Memoirs of a Madcap Cyclist

By Carol Ferro

As a lifelong cyclist, I’ve experienced many of the highs and lows of bicycle ownership. I have brought them together in this delightful little book of Drabble stories.
Drabbles are stories containing exactly a hundred words. The anecdotes chosen for this book have been concentrated into their purest form, without extraneous detail. They are ideal for reading individually in snatched moments, or as a little light reading on the go.
The stories are a mixture of information and entertainment, often funny, mostly true. If you’ve ever ridden a bike, or know someone who has, then this book is for you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Success Stories Publishing Ltd.
• Release date: Jun 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310353482

Carol Ferro

I am a professional children's storyteller, based in Trafford, Greater Manchester, UK. I also sell illustrated framed stories and fully personalised stories.I have published a book called "The Strangeling's Tale", a collection of linked short stories in the style of Grimm fairy tales.I have two books published through "Success Stories Publishing Ltd." The first is "Drabble Folk and Fairytales", a delight for all ages, 100 stories, each 100 words, telling tales from around the world, tales from throughout history, and tales from my imagination.The second is "Memoirs of a Madcap Cyclist", a series of snapshots into life as a cyclist. Both are also available in paperback as an ideal stocking filler or small gift.

Book preview

Cycling is embedded in my life. Walking hurts, my back spasms and my joints wobble.

Cycling sets me free. My back and knees behave and my Physio says Core’s good (What is that by the way?).

I've pedalled from Lands’ End to John O'Groats, Manchester to Istanbul and adore clocking the miles, seeing the sights.

I’ve been where Carol’s been, muck splattered, river soaked, cattle rattled, though confess, I’m a gadget geek. I see my heart rate, cadence, speed and occasionally where I’m going.

Carol captures the scenarios you experience wheeling along.

So have a read, then have a go.

Steve Scott MBE.

Uni Cycling

9am lecture … the countdown begins:

8am: Plenty of time to walk, just have a cuppa first …

8.20am: Give up on walking, the bus is quicker.

8.25am: Realise bus money went on kebabs. Driver won’t accept 4p and a kebab wrapper as a fare. Decide to cycle in.

8.30am: Wrestle bike from beneath vacuum cleaner, spare carrier bags and the remains of the kebab-before-last.

8.40am: Pick kebab meat off tyres and set off, bag on back.

8.50am: Narrowly avoid oblivious pedestrians. Hop off and walk through lights.

9am: Make lecture on time, resembling a wheezing tomato.

I’ve looked better!

One Man and His Bike

They say you can tell a man by his dog: the same holds true for bicycles. Looking along the cycle racks I form opinions of absent owners.

Mud-encrusted MTB - young, fit, busy 30-something.

Folding bicycle – businessman, late 40s, wears shiny shoes.

Top spec road bike – lycra clad, 20s, large disposable income.

How does my bike compare?

Pannier would suggest I’m a seasoned cyclist, though the bike is too clean and new to have been ridden much. Leather padded saddle suggests comfort over performance, and the tacky bell screams ‘gift from children’.

I have an old-lady bike!

I’m only 34.

Hallway Origami

We are a multi-bike household, so whoever gets home first gets the prime bike spot in the hallway.

Whoever gets in last, however, has a tougher time of it.

There is an optimal arrangement of bicycles; a truly elegant solution to the hallway bicycle storage problem.

I know this because I found it once when I arrived home, tired, after a long day.

Somehow, as I wedged my bike into the hallway disaster zone, the bikes arranged themselves, like a complicated origami structure, into perfect alignment.

I walked unhindered past the nested bicycles, wishing I knew how I’d done it.

Maintenance

Spanners, Allen keys and rags, arrayed before me, solemnly mark the time of maintenance.

Methodically, each bearing is oiled, each cog cleaned.

The air is redolent of grease and soap.

Eventually, a gleaming vision of loveliness emerges from its cocoon of grit and rust.

I look upon my work with pride, happy that, though my bike is far from new, today it sparkles.

Wheels run smoothly and gears change without crunching; brakes slow me down at the merest touch.

Sadly, this utopia is short lived; all bicycles are grit-magnets. Within days it will look as good as old once more.

Walk Like a Cyclist

Yesterday’s bike ride was fun.

Hour upon hour of pushing physical limits, rewarded with delicious pub lunch.

Straight to bed, exhausted from a fantastic day.

This morning, I