I was clearing out some storage space recently and dug up a stack of ancient magazines. Before committing them to the recycling bin I had a quick glance through a few of them and came across this little gem. I’m not sure exactly when I started cycling, but I know I was still at school, and I’ve been doing the same with varying degrees of enthusiasm ever since – although I suspect I need to do more if I am to avoid ending up like the subject of this verse –

I used to ride a bike

All motorists get up my nose
But the type I most dislike
Is the one who has to tell you
That he used to ride a bike.

He approaches you at lunch stop
With a loving sort of look,
You try to hint you’re resting –
But tact’s not in his book.

Oh, the cafés where he used to stop.
The characters he knew.
The distances he covered.
He rode twice as far as you.

He’s over thirty now, of course
(his waist looks forty-two),
So he’s had to pack it in for good –
But how he envies you!

All cyclists need protection Lord,
But one thing we implore –
Protect us most of all from bores
Who’ve swapped two wheels for four.

© Bill Tordoff

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