I was going to write about how I sped leisurely to university on my lovely new bike looking all brand spanking new and well, unused to be honest. I was going to write about how I got there in record time, beating the buses and even the prediction on Google Maps which said I will not get there any earlier than thirty-two minutes. I was going to write about how I sped home after an enlightening lecture, ecstatic about the joy of being free from public transport. I was going to write about all but I won’t. Actually I simply can’t. It just did not happen you see.
Instead I had a cycling journey which can be best described as a blind mouse running around the cage of London. It all seemed pretty straightforward at the start as I set off with the rain attacking my eyes but after conquering the seemingly endless high street, I entered the maze of Central London where you don’t even have time to check the road name -if the sign iseven placed appropriately- before the fear of being angrily hooted down by cars and lorries behind you sends you scooting down a random street which you later realise took you in completely the opposite direction.
There is a vast difference between cycling and commuting via cycle. When you go on a bike ride, it is often a calm, leisurely, uneventful route whereas commuting means you have to face the hustle and bustle of dealing with other road users and those dreaded traffic lights. You pump your legs to get you powering forwards only for all that effort to go in vain as soon as you see the red light. Evil; motorbikes have it much easier with their skinny little bodies and powerful engines.
On the way home, I decided to simply follow the bus route but as I sped on towards a bus stop ahead, I realised it was not the one that will take me home! So in a roundabout fashion, I eventually made my way home. Now this is the point where it may be acceptable to say something as obscene as ‘never again!’ No, that’s not me, next week shall be attempt number two!
Until Next Time
A Worried Student