Ode to John Hunter's bike

This was John’s bike, a 10-speed Empire Professional made of high-tensile steel and double-butted.  I remember the double-butting particularly.  It was probably made in Japan and had excellent Shimano parts.  I got it from John while at Trent and took it with me to England in my second year there.  I needed it, as I was at the time living 12 miles from the University in a little village called Bishopstone, just outside of Newhaven (where the ferry goes to Dieppe, France). 

I shared a house owned by two Sussex University academics, who were on sabbatical. Except for myself, my four housemates were all undergraduates, two of whom were on exchange from Germany. Every day, my housemates and I (including “Mike the Bike”) would cycle to and from the university, passing close to Virginia Woolf’s old home.  At other times, we toured the countryside together. We knew it well.  Before we dispersed at the end of the year, I went on a cycling trip through the Republic of Ireland.  For that adventure I was using my brother’s bike, which had a larger frame, and my friend at the time was using the bike I got from John. 

Later, I was living in Brighton, at the top of a steep hill, on Milner Road. There are a lot of hills in this part of England, known especially for its beautiful South Downs.  I had housemates from Japan, China, Vietnam and Nigeria.  I was the only one who rode a bike, and every night I would carry John’s bike into my tiny bedroom for safe keeping.  One day, Mike the Bike showed up in January with ice in his beard: he had been cycling from Germany – or was he coming from Scotland – I can no longer remember?

By this time I was in pretty good shape.  No hill was too big.  I remember often passing though Rudyard Kipling’s town which is perfectly in line with Greenwich Mean Time.  I remember thinking it says something about Kipling, if you recall his poem “White Man’s Burden”.  After Milner Road I migrated to Elm Grove, another steep hill in Brighton, where I had housemates from Taiwan, Holland, Iceland, and Mexico (though not all at the same time).  One of my housemates, another Mike, and I took the train to London – and biked back, though we were far from alone. It was a cycling marathon.  I recall spending lots of time in England fine tuning, oiling, fixing and adjusting my bike.  It was a weekly routine.

I brought John’s bike back with me from England.  For a short spell I was living with my Mom, and I was still using the bike in Port Hope.  Our neighbour complained that I was always carrying the bike into the basement of the shared house. Then the bike went with me to Toronto, when I was teaching at York.  After the roads of England, I was certainly brave enough to cycle in TO.  I then brought the bike with me to Victoria, when I began a full year of teaching.  I certainly needed it then, as I was again some distance from the university.  I had met Qian as we were both waiting for a bus which would take us to the ferry – and Victoria itself.  The first thing I did was help Qian get a bike.  And we cycled.

After Victoria, I had an opening at the University of the West Indies (Jamaica).  I shipped my bike there, too.  But, alas, when my stuff arrived I found my bike … in pieces.  Everything was taken apart.  My guess was they were looking for drugs.  I didn’t have the heart to put it all back together.  Besides, cycling in Jamaica is a definite safety hazard.  I stayed a year there but did not bring John’s bike back with me. Instead I left it with a friend.  John’s bike lived a good life, and I am grateful to have known it.