Cycling Perils

For students in Oxford, there’s one way to get around: your legs. Unfortunately, walking everywhere is both tiresome and time-consuming, so Oxford’s young academics use their legs to a different end: cycling. “Ubiquitous” would be the word to describe cycling here in Oxford. Bikes are everywhere. Bikers are everywhere. Bike racks are everywhere, and they’re always full.

The Vines is beautifully situated just outside town, which means a forty-minute walk or a brisk fifteen-minute bike ride to get to the City Centre. Perpetually sleepy college students+extra time to sleep in=bike. In theory, it’s a lovely idea: hop on, cycle through the quaint city streets, hop off, hair perfectly wind-tousled and cheeks glowing from the crisp autumn air. But the reality is a bit more…indecorous.

My new friend (and roommate) Sarah took our inaugural ride last night. A la If You Give A Mouse A Cookie, it all started with a cup of tea. Just a simple cup of tea. We started the tea kettle, placed the teabags in our chosen mugs, retrieved the sugar…and then realized that there was no milk in the house. English air, for those of you who’ve never experienced it, gives one a profound longing for tea, but only if there is milk to put in it. Doing without? Unacceptable. We decided to bike to a convenience store up the street. After spending an embarrassing amount of time trying to clip the headlights onto our bikes, we set off.

 Problem 1: the so-called “bike lane” amounts to a painted yellow lines right next to the sidewalk. The infinitesimal space between the yellow lines? That was our safe zone. All I heard was a panicked shriek behind me before a double-decker bus screamed past. None of the cars ever seemed quite far enough away for my liking.

Problem 2: Due to the general demand for bikes in the greater Oxford area, bike theft is a huge problem. We were given specific instructions on how and where to lock our bikes and told to remove the headlights when we dismounted so they wouldn’t get “nicked.” Unfortunately, we were not instructed on how to deal with shady men offering to give us £300 for the bikes and bring us “free” ones in return.

Problem 3: A bike is rendered useless when its chain slips off the gears. This evening, we had just enjoyed a delightful, nearly surreal dinner of fish and chips in the Eagle and Child, strolled through St. Giles’s Fair (the oldest in Europe, dating back to the thirteenth century), and were retrieving our bikes when it became glaringly obvious that mine wouldn’t work. A cursory glance revealed that the chain had slipped off. I ended up with grease all over my fingers, but I wrestled that sucker back where it belonged.

From there, it was a rainy half-hour bike ride uphill to The Vines—a good cardio workout and mildly unpleasant, but hardly fraught with peril. And when we finally tumbled in the door at the end of it, chilled, sweaty, and with rubbery legs, there was a cup of tea waiting for us. With milk.