Union Cycle Works Party at the Deptford Project



A bespoke bike by UCW



I have been hearing a lot about the Deptford Project from my cooler, southerner friends. It is high on my list of places to explore in the near future, and has just been bumped higher by the opening of  Union Cycle Works. It's a  new  workshop which partners with people from disadvantaged backgrounds to build bespoke bikes with a story. I want one (sorry Trusty). They're a not-for-profit co-operative aiming to create a community cycling hub, and all round brilliant.

On top of this good news, they are having a launch party. Apparenty, we are all cordially invited to join them this Friday (8th of October) from 7.30pm onwards at the Union Cycle Works HQ. You'll get a chance to peruse their beautiful range of renovated frames and bikes, take advantage a free Brooks Saddle personalised stamping service (bring your own), and lots of locally sourced beverages. Bikes and beer? Yes please.

Zen and the Art of Bicycle Maintenance.

Today I fixed my bike all by myself. I'd taken Trusty into the local bike shop three times in a row after a nasty derailer accident, and every time I picked him up the poor love just wasn't quite himself. It was taking quite a lot of time, although luckily not much money, because it was their fault. I had a conversation with a friend of a friend who heard the saga and whose breathtaking response was: 'Why not do it yourself? It's not rocket science'.

This was news to me. I sort of thought that rocket science was exactly what it was. I mean, both rockets and bikes are propelled. They both have...mechanisms. Don't they? Sciencey stuff that only qualified people can fiddle with?

Obviously having become concious of these assumptions I recognised their ridiculousness, and so decided to give it a go. It helped to think of my bike as just a big meccano set. If my brother age four could build a suspension bridge out of meccano surely I could make my chain stay on the cog I wanted it to be on. The problem had been reduced to an annoying slipping-on-the-gears fault, not enough to stop me riding but enough to irritate. A kind man called Ian explained that you can twiddle a knob on the back of the derailer to fix this, going a quarter turn at a time and noting the difference it makes. And so, screwing up my courage, I tried it. And knock me down with a feather, it worked.

I am not a naturally technical person (as is probably perfectly clear) but after my great triumph I am determined not to darken the door of the bike shop...well, for a while at least. I figure with some patience and enough youtube tutorials I should be able to handle the basic things. I can't think why I haven't even attempted it before- partially being intimidated by the (almost entirely) men in the shops and really just not knowing where to start.

I think this free bike maintenance workshop in Hackney might help me work it out. So, Trusty and I will be growing even closer as I get to know his inner workings- I just hope he trusts me.

Not so Trusty

It feels pretty ironic that the week I decide to finally start writing the bike blog I've had buzzing round my head for months is the same week I barely get to cycle at all. The sad news is, the steed is back in the shop. Riding home from a very lovely party in Bloomsbury last night, halfway up the very long and steep Pentonville Road, the derailer..... derailed. Again. Cue crunching, sparks and some very puzzled poking.

Luckily, this time the wheels still spun so I was able to push the steed up the rest of the hill and pop in on some friends having birthday drinks in Angel while I worked out what to do. Turns out, buses won't let you take bikes on, and neither will most black cabs. I asked very politely and got curt shakes of the head and a facefull of exhaust. It was 1 o'clock and it is a looong walk home and so I threw my feminist principles out of the window and pulled the 'damsel in distress' routine. Wobbly voice, fake tears, big eyes and hints at fears for my personal safety. It worked an absolute treat. I tell myself I did it for the steed- the alternative to the walk was leaving him locked up in Islington overnight on a Saturday. No bike of mine.

FYI, the steed is pretty big so I think most would fit in the back of a standard black cab, if you're ever stranded. I did have to sit on the floor in an unlady- like position with a pedal in my back, but still. It got me and steed home safety.
So tonight a thousand thanks to my taxi-driver in shining armour, from my (currently pretty untrusty) wheels and me.

Two Wheels...Very Good

The Steed is healed! Thanks to the lovely chaps down at Two Wheels Good bike shop in Crouch End, I have my own two wheels back. I'd managed to get a wodge of fabric (the technical term) caught in my derailer, and through stubbornly trying to keep pedalling, managed to snap that off, bend the thing that holds the gear cogs (I'm sure I'll learn the proper word for that too) and also buckle the back wheel. So not a small amount of damage. I'd been bracing myself for a hefty bill, but the man with the handlebar moustache charged me to modest sum of £35. Less than a normal service.

Hurrah for having a good local bike shop- I've been ripped off and ignored by Evans too many times.

And hurrah for being back on the road- I'd missed the sensation of the wind in my hair. Steed and me restrained the urge to ring our bell with glee, because pedestrians think you're yelling at them (and sometimes I am, the dozy fools). So I just had to sing a bit whilst free wheeling down Crouch Hill instead.

Bicycle down!

I'm beginning this blog on a sad day- the Trusty Steed had a little accident and is currently residing in the bike hospital in the safe hands of a moustachioed mechanic. In my head he wears a white coat and carries his tools in a white box painted with a red cross. God bless him. Apparently the steed will need a few more days work as the part in question is not in stock. I wish there was an organ doner register for bikes.

While I've been waiting for the steed to recover I've realised how much I miss him, and how less rich my commute is when  crammed into a tube or bus. Every day on a bike is an adventure- London reveals it's secrets to you when on two wheels. Fragments of stories and tantalising glimpses flash past, but never so fast that you can't choose to pursue. I've started this blog to chronicle the most exciting, inspiring and interesting things I see while out and about by pedal power.