I learned to cycle 70 years ago in the Chiltern Hills.
A few years later my dad decided it would be good for two teenage boys to move to a flat in High Wycombe, but at weekends you’d still find me cycling along the beechwoods’ quiet leafy lanes instead.
Thanks to a dream job in early 1970s Wokingham, it was lovely to ride again in the Chilterns, especially in May at bluebell time and as the leaves turned golden in October.
Fifteen years ago, the Royal Berks’ surgeon recommended an urgent visit to Robbie the Robot for a ‘young, slim and fit’ cyclist with prostate cancer.
Gradually I recovered fitness by cycling, in spite of quarterly hormone injections.
After five years I cycled to Wolf Hall in Wiltshire and back along the Kennet and Avon canal towpath, a round trip of eighty miles.
Now in my later 70s, I began to lose my stamina and balance, partly due to a series of strokes last summer.
Fortunately, my friends at Berkshire Cycles had already recommended a magnificent Dutch electric assist tricycle.
It’s lovely when the battery pulls the trike up a hill, but at first it’s disconcerting how road camber and pedalling with ‘right hand drive’ to the rear axle leads the novice into the gutter! However, one soon gets used to the steering.
It’s harder to avoid potholes, but the big tyres handle them very well. I could rant for hours about barriers that force tricyclists on to busy roads, but drivers show more consideration, the saddle is very comfortable, it carries lots of stuff and is much cheaper than a car.
I’m really pleased I didn’t buy an unstable scooter instead.
Peter Glass