Liz Bacon

Everyone’s an adult until their bike-chain falls off

 

Anything up to 20 minutes on a bike is the closest physical sensation to freedom that I can rely upon with any regularity/predictability

Anything above 30 minutes is exercise and therefore inherently unpleasant

The ten minutes between is no (wo)man’s land

I feel my ancestry most acutely on a bike

I know I’ve still got thrush when I actively seek routes with cobble stones and other uneven surfaces

I spend most of my bike journeys imagining ways in which I might die

At least once a day I recall the final scene from ‘One Day’

I can’t signal left because of bad balance

I signal right with real vigour to compensate for my left

I fall off at least once a month, always from standing still, mainly at traffic lights

Standing still generates a false sense of safety

I wish I did not so desperately need a helmet

I need my two feet to touch the ground, completely, even if it fucks with the ergonomics of pedalling

I still don’t really understand which way the traffic comes from

I shouted at a man in a car today, and remarked upon my own excellent and newly arranged boundaries afterwards

This is what a voice is for

Shouting at men in cars from my bicycle

Liz Bacon