On repeatedly falling off a bicycle

Thus far in my lovely forays into the streets of Oxford I have fallen off my bicycle twice. The first of these bike/person separations occurred on my first day at work. Happily looking at 7.5 hours in which I learned much, felt confused, but overall know that eventually it will all work out, I graciously decided it would be best to jump a curb and hit a pole. For added effect I chose to do this about rush hour, with several cars, pedestrians, and other cyclists looking on.

Of course, in hindsight, I realize this is not, in effect, my fault in the slightest. The curb, you see, was strategically located such that if perchance you made the decision to park your bike at the stop too far on the right to make your turn you would set yourself up to jump the curb and hit a pole. This, I feel, is Fate taking a cruel swipe at me, the cycling novice. Had I but known that such curbs would manifest themselves on the streets of Botley Road in order to cause menace to the unknown peddlist I would've immediately written to council. This, of course, would not change anything. However, as an American I reserve my right to complain profusely about everything.

My second bike separation occurred due to the lack of traction on my 3+ year-old Pumas. (Here pronounced 'pew-mas' not 'poo-mas') As I was gracelessly gliding to a stop in an area where I am not altogether sure where to cross I slipped. You see, in an engineering move much like the aforementioned curb, Oxford made the decision to place a separation device that would lead cars away from the center of the city. This is done primarily because driving within the center of the city is a foolish idea. You see, when Oxford was founded cars had not reached invention. In fact, cars themselves would mostly be abscent from the overall fabric of Oxford for about 2,000 years. For some unknown reason the Trojans, or whatever ancient tribe founded the city, did not imagine setting up an infrastructure to support motorized vehicle transport. This lack of foresight eventually resulted in severe internal traffic problems. The end result was Oxford closing some streets and blocking various locations altogether. Thus we are brought to present day and an encroaching problem. Me, being of the two-wheel self propulsion, can get around said motorized transport. However, I have to figure out my way around the blocking systems. To do this one must remove themselves from the bike and walk it, usually across pedestrian intersections, before remounting the cycle and continuing on following all normal traffic laws. In my attempt to do this my Puma made contact with a slick surface and I was prematurely removed from my cycle and into the nearby path of a friendly Italian.

It still embarassed me greatly.

And lest I not begin to discourse my feelings towards the seat upon which I place my hind region. This is primarily my fault, as I protested the purchase of further items to adorn my shiny new transport. Now, of course, as it has become difficult to sit, the method of which I ride has become very odd and uncomfortable. I hope to remedy this issue shortly, however, I know it is greatly imparing my abilities to balance and will probably lead me to a lovely collision with the next Asian walking tour. This may, however, result in minor Flickr, YouTube or Facebook fame.

I also need gloves. As a runner I have calluses on my feet, it's part of the job. I do not, however, want the same on my hands. More people see my hands than my feet, so if anything I'd like to keep those pretty. I'm alot about the pretty.

I guess I should find some eloquent way of bringing this blog to a satisfactory closure. So I shall leave you with this: If you see a female peddlist on a mountain bike with a basket looking very worried and in pain, stay clear. Or, if you cannot, please place the nearest curb or Asian tour group in your path so that you may avoid injury. Thank you.