Published Messenger Newspapers, Adelaide, March 17, 2004


CASPIAN'S AGONY AND ECSTASY


CASPIAN Helm, a 10-year-old Willunga lad, rode his bike in the amateur event of the Tour Down Under last month, covering 150km in a twisting route from Goolwa to Victor Harbor. "It's the longest ride I've ever done," Caspian said later. "There were times when I was just exhausted but people kept cheering me on, so that helped." Unlike the admirable Caspian, I have never had people cheer me when I ride my bike. Were a few people cheering by the side of Port Rd, I might even consider riding to work. With a bit of crowd support, head down, holding my form, feeling the breeze, I could almost imagine being Lance Armstrong, or Caspian Helm. Only to have some skinny girl on a Trek cruise past me. I don't enjoy that. I don't like head winds either. Hills are not too bad except for the pain and running out of breath. The sad fact is I am not much of a bike rider. I don't look much like a rider either, in case you hadn't noticed. My son, who has a sad sense of humour, gave my a black and yellow riding vest for my birthday. It is one size too small and hangs in the cupboard until it sags a bit, like me. I recently bought my first pair of Lycra bike shorts with a padded crotch. The padding really makes a difference, especially the way it holds a bloke up and out where it counts. It makes me look four times more impressive than I really am. I have taken to wearing the shorts even when I am not riding my bike. I hit the road as often as I can, sometimes literally. Someone once advised me the best way to fall off your bike and not be hurt was to keep your feet always in sight. By doing so, apparently, you somehow tumble harmlessly. Yeah right. Remind me of that the next time I go skidding hands-first across the debris that litters roadside bike lanes. Not just the pebbles and shattered glass, either, but an astonishingly large number of wheel nuts, engine bolts, spark plugs and other scrap metal - all of which must have shaken loose from passing vehicles. I half expect to see cars collapsing cartoon-like all around me. The real dangers in riding a bike are not self-inflicted but are caused by idiot motorists. A couple of thoughts: Anyone going for a driver's licence should spend a week riding a bike in the city before they are allowed behind the wheel of a car. That would bloody-well make them bike aware; and any parked motorist who opens a car door in front of a cyclist should be made to drive for a month with the doors removed. When Caspian crossed the finish line at Victor Harbor, he continued cycling the 17km back to Goolwa. "I didn't have a choice," he said. The family car was parked there. Bugger. Still, who cares? As Caspian said, "When I get on my bike, I just feel free, getting away from all the chaos and stuff." Nothing else needs to be said.