Thanks to my best mate and long-time cycling co-traveller Graeme for contributing this ace blog!

First of all, an apology for paraphrasing this on the autobiography of an infamous Texan cyclist but in this instance it seems rather apt.

The bike – a Peugeot Premiere. A bog standard budget 80s machine in sky blue, the bike I owned in my teenage years. It was bought new for me for my 12th birthday from Colin Lewis Cycles in Torquay for the princely sum of £135 which was a not exactly insignificant amount of money back then. But it was a proper bike, not like the BMXs that I never had as they were just toys. Or so my parents said.

On the subject of my parents, my dad had some foresight when I got the bike so it was just a little bit big for me, much to the detriment of my genitalia. I’m sure many a young man can appreciate what I’m saying here. My second predicament was working out the gears, no looking up videos on YouTube and being guided through the process, learning was through trial and error. But once I had that worked out the world was my oyster. Almost.

The thing is I grew up in Devon and nowhere in Devon is flat so you have a choice – power or grind your way up the hills or walk. I’d like to say I tackled the hills with grit and determination but more often than not I chose the easier option. Not having my finger on the pulse I hadn’t seen the upcoming mountain bike boom that would have meant lower gearing options and possibly less walking.

But I went places and it gave me independence, places that used to be inaccessible were now within my reach. Never too far though as if I got one of my regular punctures it meant a long walk home. I did become pretty adept at puncture repairs. We would head out with full rucksacks for weekends away, we couldn’t afford panniers so had to put up and shut up with heavy bags on our backs. It was certainly not the most efficient way of travelling. No helmets and busy roads were par for the course, it makes me shudder to think of it now. But we had freedom.

The last journey I took on that bike was a trip to Brittany just before I started University with my friend Dan who is no longer with us. We were given a lift to Plymouth and then hopped on the ferry to Roscoff for a few days abroad. We didn’t get very far, recurring punctures and the appeal of cheap hypermarket beer put paid to that. One of the places we did get to was Morlaix and it was about 25 years later that myself and Rich rode through there. We stopped for a drink and raised a toast to him and others that we had lost along the way, a tradition we have continued on each journey to France since.

The bike sat in my Mum and Dad’s garage for many years until they were having a clear out. Did I want it? No, not really. A couple of years later I got back into cycling. Should I have kept it? Probably, but hindsight is a wonderful thing. 

I had reminisced about the bike with Rich and had mentioned that I had seen one or two on eBay but had resisted temptation. Then we went away for a weekend and he brought the latest bike he had acquired with him. It was a Peugeot Premiere. But it wasn’t for him, it was for me. He had stripped it down, repainted and refitted everything. He said it still needed a bit of work but I can do pretty much anything that needs doing on a bike of that age.

And so dear reader, how did I get on with it? I’ll leave that to the next blog.