Ride of My Life

As a student at college I wanted a bicycle for Christmas. I hadn't past my driving test and even if I had, I couldn't afford to run one with my Saturday job wages. My parents didn't have much money so I didn't ask for an expensive model by name, anything would do. I didn't think they could go far wrong or could they?

They did attempt to wrap it with some festive paper and ribbon. Unfortunately nothing could hide its bright bubble-gum pink, wicker shopping basket or step-through frame. I cringed as my parents proudly presented it to me in the garden. What could I say? It would have broken their hearts to complain. I didn't want to appear ungrateful but there was no mistaking it was a girls bike.

'We know it isn't what you exactly wanted,' mum said slowly watching the look on my face. 'We didn't have much choice in our price bracket. The man in the second-hand shop said it's a unisex model.'

'For college girls and boys,' Dad adds helpfully.

I beam gratefully my braces glinting. 'Thank you,' I say with as much conviction as I could muster.

Dad made me sit on it as he proudly adjusted the seat and handle bars. I felt a complete prat.

'Take it for a spin,' Dad says handing me a pair of bicycle clips for my trousers. 'You'll have to tie your hair back.'

Like a younger child at Christmas I pedalled around our estate on my new gift. The difference being I wasn't proud or happy. It rode okay for a shopper but still hoped none of my friends would see me perched on the wide seat. The step-through frame did have the advantage of not causing me untold damage if I slipped on a pedal and landed on the hard steel tubing. Oddly after a few miles I began to view my Christmas present differently. I knew I wasn't the butchest kid at college and had done my best to suppress my feminine mannerisms. Cycling was for me as butch as it gets - I didn't play football, go to the gym or hang out with my mates. Instead I was an effeminate guy, of slight build and few friends. Cycling my girls bike did something for me. Was it the wind in my hair? The breeze on my soft skin or the position I sat? I really didn't know but unlike a boys racer or a mountain bike I felt more girlie than ever and even imagined wearing a dress as I pedalled, the material billowing out behind in celebration as I rode.