Do you like books? I like books. And I like bikes. So I took little convincing to go and see David Herlihy at Avid Reader last night to hear about The Lost Cyclist. A good folk recommended it, so I was easily convinced. I hoped to build my self-efficacy and to learn more about what it meant to be a lost cyclist. This is in part because I had read nothing about the book prior to attending, otherwise I would have quickly realised that the book was about a specific cyclist who got lost quite permanently in their efforts to travel around the world on one of the fantastic new safety bicycles. And nothing to do with cyclists who are trying to find themselves. Which is presumably what this blog is about. Please imagine here on the screen a sepia toned photograph of a pioneering type on a bicycle in a studio in India. I don’t know where it disappeared to.
All went well. Do check out the book.
I received wine, women and some song. Well, wine at the very least. And a powerpoint of interesting photos in a nice location, sheltered from the wind and rain. Some social mishaps occurred, which are presumably the subject of some other blog which is tinged with sadness and hears Adalita’s “The Repairer” as it considers the world at large. Some social positives occurred also, but I don’t want to deprive myself of future posts by crapping on about it right now. I hope that some of the people that I met will come on a ride with me and let me talk to them about themselves and their relationship with their helmet.
Did you know that sometimes they will make your blog into a book?
I also like this blog which has been made into a book recently. I mean, I always knew that one was going to be made into a book, but I enjoyed greatly the photographs and the ritualised, process-driven kind of approach. But I like it better than the snob book, because it is friendly and beautiful. Whereas, sadly, I believe the snob book is more Christmas stocking filler.
I have been thinking quite a bit about Rollers on Saturday. And wondering if I can ever imagine that things will be the way that I hope they will be. Because I do not think that this is the case, I have been putting some thought into how I want to be in the world, and what I hope it will bring.
As a cyclist/lady/person I like to know what to expect, so that I can be ready and feel safe in that environment.
On Saturday, I believe that I will take a little ride to a coffee shop/bar called Brew. They are supporting the rollers event, and have recently confirmed that they are supporting a poetry reading that I would also like to attend, so I believe that the venue is run/managed by reasonably nice people.
I also believe that there will be other cyclists there, people who like bikes, enjoy riding them and have some sense that winning a set of new wheels, or a new hat, or some form of T-shirt would be good. I hope that not all of the t-shirts are in very large sizes, so that I will feel motivated to win them.
I anticipate that there will be a room, somewhat too large for the number of people there when I arrive, but also large enough to accommodate the other people who will come slightly later o’clock that I will arrive there. I am always arriving a bit too early at parties and then feeling like I have to wait a long time before it gets started. Oh, and that other people are not as punctual as I am. After initially worrying that the people are too cool to talk to me, I will think “that fellow must make really nice Tiramisu”, or “I am sure he is very nice to his mum”, which will help me feel less intimidated by them. I hope that a few of my friends will come along, or I will make some new friends, because sometimes doing something quite silly is quite fun.
After I get over all of that, I am going to ride on a bike which is attached to a frame at the front, but on rollers at the back. It will be less nerve-wracking than poetry eisteddfods I went in when I was in high school, and less scary than going a first date (or perhaps like going on fifty first dates all at once and having to look like a total dill while doing it).
And if you come and you are new, and particularly if you are a woman who is also new, I will say hello to you. I will ask you how you are doing, or smile shyly from the background in the hope that you will say hello to me while I am loitering about. Sometimes I can even bluster up front and say hi in an apparently up front kind of way. Secretly I am deadly embarrassed and hoping that you will think that I make nice Tiramisu and am nice to my mother, even though I don’t and am not always.
I’m going to bring a good friend, she is amazing and fierce and soft and shy and nice and a mum and a friendly type. I miss her because she lives in Melbourne with some of my other friends. And I’m going to invite everyone that I even KNOW in Brisbane to come along just in case it will help to have a bit of friendly spectating.
I hope that they will play good music, the kind that makes you happy, or makes you sad, or just brings some background to the whizzing of wheels and the nervous making people.
Please consider coming along to it – I think it would actually be really fun.
Apparently, they are going to run a newbies bracket beforehand and there will even be prizes for us.
eleanor j jackson 