Where you wheelie bin? Nantwich.

In the third book of Philip Pullman's Dark Materials trilogy you discover these creatures called the Mulefa. What sets them apart from humans is their seemingly built-in wheels. Just imagine how cool it would be to be wheeled. And why on earth has mother nature not yet thought of this particular avenue for evolution? Actually, there is a fairly obvious reason - the mechanics of a wheel mean that it must be entirely separate from whatever it is bearing, and thus could never be grown by an organism. To Pullman's credit, he does work this accuracy into the novel, but all the same, these creatures are cool - a bit like Roadrunner with a built in Segway. They captured my imagination and I have spent a good deal of time since pondering how good life would be, were I wheeled.

The relevance of this is that I don't think we really think enough about transport. We're all so obsessed with running on treadmills and cycling on exercise bikes that getting from A to B doesn't seem to be associated with either wheels or feet nowadays. But really they're the basics of us getting places, and we have to get places a lot, so we should give them more thought.
I've always been a feet kinda girl. I have nothing against the wheel, indeed having read Pullman I've become very fond of the wheel. But walking has always been my THING. Running was also my thing for a while, and I think I am one of the few people I know who runs on a daily basis regardless of atire or accepted practice - if it gets me there quicker, why not? Skipping I like too. But not cycling - it's just never been my thing. Now I do enjoy the wheels on my car - when no one's looking I sometimes turn the engine off and see how long I can freewheel for downhill. I also had a brief daliance with a skateboard, but my sister was better than me at it, so it didn't last.

What could have put me off these lynchpins of human transportation was a dreadful pedal thing Dad bought us one Easter when we were little. It had two foot platforms and four small wheels, was the worst piece of transport equipment ever devised and I really didn't like it. Freudian analysis aside, I now have eight weeks to learn about wheels, and more specifically, bicycles.

This journey of discovery began today with a hangover. This was quickly dealt with once I'd got on the heavy, gearless bicycle that belongs to my father and put some distance between myself and my bed. I went to Nantwich! I have an unusual love/hate relationship with this Cheshire town. I regularly drive up the A49 which is a long trunk road direction Manchester to visit friends, and every single time I return down this road, I lose it and end up miles out of my way in bloody Nantwich. There's a very pretty lake on the edge of the town where people sit and feed the ducks, and on each occasion I have found myself inadvertently there, it has been a beautiful, bright sunny day. So for me, Nantwich is this perpetually sunny venus-fly-trap of a town where other people have a nice time while I'm always frustrated and lost.

Today, I was one of the people having a nice time by that lake. Well, I was a bit cold. And pissed-off that I'd carried my camera all the way there around my neck and found the batteries were flat. Oh, and mildly annoyed by the low volume of traffic which suggested that it really is just me who loses the A49 southbound and goes through Nantwich every time. But I had cycled about 25 miles to get there and it was good. And then I cycled back.

Barty has found that cycling on bicycles is not arduous enough for quick-fix-fitness, so is doing hill-training programmes on exercise-bikes. The fact that the bicycle I'm on doesn't have gears is on my side. Plus, Shropshire is pretty hilly and going as slowly as possible up hill in a very high gear (so about one pedal per five seconds) equates to using muscle machines, I reckon, and is a helluva lot less frightening - women who use those things get funny looks.

So far so good. Apart from the direct quote from a guy at work that I'll share with you - "you'll get back and you'll never fit into a skirt again". Cheers, Steve.