A funny story about me and my dads cycling adventures

[johnnyb47]

I used to bike every Sunday morning on my new Peugeot bike to visit my dad who lived about 4 miles from me. I was only about 14 at the time and my parents had just separated. Every Sunday I would go to his bedsit to see him and he would get up to open the door stinking of stale beer from the night before and suffering from a severe hang over and to many fags. He was having a hard time dealing with it all and turned to the drink to get away from all his problems. Every week I tried to steer him away from the pub and encouraged him to spend his weekend with some quality time with me. One weekend I managed to get him to come out on his bike with me. He had a cheap and nasty racer that was a Woolworths home brand and was in pretty dire condition. I thought it was a good idea at the time and choose a route that would take us out of town and up into the Welsh mountains where there were no pubs ..Nice clear air and the country side would him do wonders I thought. After about 3 miles of solid climbing he collapsed on the side of the road coughing and gasping for air. All the months of heavy drinking and smoking had finally caught up with him. He sat there there for the best part of 15 minutes trying to compose himself and told me we will have to turn back home. My dad has always had a lot of pride and he wasn't to impressed that his son was now outpacing him, so when he turned back to go down this 3 mile long steep hill he had to prove he could beat me. As a youngster I was always up for a race and the pair of us went hell for leather down this road. I was in top gear and could not physically pedal and faster. I tucked down behind the handle bars and let gravity take me down this hill as fast as I could. I was well in front of my old man and doing in excess of 40/50 mph. The bike was starting to get very twitchy on the steering but I held my" bottle" and carried on. As we got into town i started to slow my bike up for obvious reasons. My dad though had different ideas. He was determined he was not going to lose this race and flew past me like a bat out of hell. I will never forget the sight. His bike was a death trap. The wheels were buckled , the brakes were shot , and the whole thing was as rusty as a 5 year old Chinese motorbike. As he flew past me doing god knows what speed, his bike was literally shaking apart in front of me. Within a few moments he was gone in the distance and I could not see him any more. When I eventually caught up I was greeted by a giant hole in a hedge to which he was laying the other side in someone's garden. His bike was a right off. The front wheel resembled the crescent of the moon and the forks where pushed back into the frame. After picking himself up and dusting himself down have a guess where we went. ......
You guessed right. ....The pub.

 

[gbb]

I can't offer a story as good but I always remember dad cycling to RAF Scampton when I was a kid (we call it commuting now)..I always knew he was a cyclist at heart.
I remember him telling me spending what was then a couple weeks wages on a bike was needless, it won't make you go any faster he said.
Then some years later, he proudly told me he'd brought a bike for a months wages when he was a young man.
Yer. .right oh dad

 

[hondated]

I used to bike every Sunday morning on my new Peugeot bike to visit my dad who lived about 4 miles from me. I was only about 14 at the time and my parents had just separated. Every Sunday I would go to his bedsit to see him and he would get up to open the door stinking of stale beer from the night before and suffering from a severe hang over and to many fags. He was having a hard time dealing with it all and turned to the drink to get away from all his problems. Every week I tried to steer him away from the pub and encouraged him to spend his weekend with some quality time with me. One weekend I managed to get him to come out on his bike with me. He had a cheap and nasty racer that was a Woolworths home brand and was in pretty dire condition. I thought it was a good idea at the time and choose a route that would take us out of town and up into the Welsh mountains where there were no pubs ..Nice clear air and the country side would him do wonders I thought. After about 3 miles of solid climbing he collapsed on the side of the road coughing and gasping for air. All the months of heavy drinking and smoking had finally caught up with him. He sat there there for the best part of 15 minutes trying to compose himself and told me we will have to turn back home. My dad has always had a lot of pride and he wasn't to impressed that his son was now outpacing him, so when he turned back to go down this 3 mile long steep hill he had to prove he could beat me. As a youngster I was always up for a race and the pair of us went hell for leather down this road. I was in top gear and could not physically pedal and faster. I tucked down behind the handle bars and let gravity take me down this hill as fast as I could. I was well in front of my old man and doing in excess of 40/50 mph. The bike was starting to get very twitchy on the steering but I held my" bottle" and carried on. As we got into town i started to slow my bike up for obvious reasons. My dad though had different ideas. He was determined he was not going to lose this race and flew past me like a bat out of hell. I will never forget the sight. His bike was a death trap. The wheels were buckled , the brakes were shot , and the whole thing was as rusty as a 5 year old Chinese motorbike. As he flew past me doing god knows what speed, his bike was literally shaking apart in front of me. Within a few moments he was gone in the distance and I could not see him any more. When I eventually caught up I was greeted by a giant hole in a hedge to which he was laying the other side in someone's garden. His bike was a right off. The front wheel resembled the crescent of the moon and the forks where pushed back into the frame. After picking himself up and dusting himself down have a guess where we went. ......
You guessed right. ....The pub.

Great story and something I can relate to as my parents were drinkers and I went through a similar experience not that I ever went out on a bike with my dad ( well who I thought was my dad but that's another story).
But for me at least I have been left with a bit of a cliff hanger !.Did your dad eventually overcome his problems and is he still with us.
Hopefully he did and he now cycles on a regular basis.

 

[johnnyb47]

He still alive and kicking buddy. In fact he's now remarried to someone who's just turned 50 and lives on the coast.He still works 40 hours a week at the ripe old age of 75. It's a strange feeling having a step mum who's my age. He just doesn't seem to age mentally or physically the dirty old goat. Love him to bits though :-)

 

[jefmcg]

He still alive and kicking buddy. In fact he's now remarried to someone who's just turned 50 and lives on the coast.He still works 40 hours a week at the ripe old age of 75. It's a strange feeling having a step mum who's my age. He just doesn't seem to age mentally or physically the dirty old goat. Love him to bits though :-)

Oh! Thank god! Your first post was one of the saddest things I have read on cc. So glad things worked out for the old coot

 

[Globalti]

Nice story and you're a great son! I hope my own son would be as caring and compassionate if I went off the rails!

 

[PaulSecteur]

...After picking himself up and dusting himself down have a guess where we went. ......
You guessed right. ....The pub.

Thought you were going to say "bike shop".

 

[Dave7]

Nice story......good ending.
When I was perhaps 9 yrs old (60 years ago) my family used to cycle prhaps 20/40 miles.
My Dad used to sit me on the cross bar, with a cushion for some sort of comfort. I recall one ride.....I must have been on the cross bar 2 hours. I hadnt realised that my legs had gone completely dead and when I jumped off I just collapsed in a heap......much laughter I still recall the awful feeling as the blood started circulating again.

 

[Firestorm]

Great story
I dont remember bike rides with my Dad
primarily because i was a baby in the side car on Dads bike whilst Mum rode along too.
I only found out last week that I attended a Track meeting at two weeks old. Dad stuck the sidecar onto his track iron, my carrycot and I went in it with his track wheels and he and Mum set off !
I was unloaded on the infield whilst Dad raced.

 

[hondated]

He still alive and kicking buddy. In fact he's now remarried to someone who's just turned 50 and lives on the coast.He still works 40 hours a week at the ripe old age of 75. It's a strange feeling having a step mum who's my age. He just doesn't seem to age mentally or physically the dirty old goat. Love him to bits though :-)

Thanks johnny that's great to know.

 

[bonsaibilly]

I used to bike every Sunday morning on my new Peugeot bike to visit my dad who lived about 4 miles from me. I was only about 14 at the time and my parents had just separated. Every Sunday I would go to his bedsit to see him and he would get up to open the door stinking of stale beer from the night before and suffering from a severe hang over and to many fags. He was having a hard time dealing with it all and turned to the drink to get away from all his problems. Every week I tried to steer him away from the pub and encouraged him to spend his weekend with some quality time with me. One weekend I managed to get him to come out on his bike with me. He had a cheap and nasty racer that was a Woolworths home brand and was in pretty dire condition. I thought it was a good idea at the time and choose a route that would take us out of town and up into the Welsh mountains where there were no pubs ..Nice clear air and the country side would him do wonders I thought. After about 3 miles of solid climbing he collapsed on the side of the road coughing and gasping for air. All the months of heavy drinking and smoking had finally caught up with him. He sat there there for the best part of 15 minutes trying to compose himself and told me we will have to turn back home. My dad has always had a lot of pride and he wasn't to impressed that his son was now outpacing him, so when he turned back to go down this 3 mile long steep hill he had to prove he could beat me. As a youngster I was always up for a race and the pair of us went hell for leather down this road. I was in top gear and could not physically pedal and faster. I tucked down behind the handle bars and let gravity take me down this hill as fast as I could. I was well in front of my old man and doing in excess of 40/50 mph. The bike was starting to get very twitchy on the steering but I held my" bottle" and carried on. As we got into town i started to slow my bike up for obvious reasons. My dad though had different ideas. He was determined he was not going to lose this race and flew past me like a bat out of hell. I will never forget the sight. His bike was a death trap. The wheels were buckled , the brakes were shot , and the whole thing was as rusty as a 5 year old Chinese motorbike. As he flew past me doing god knows what speed, his bike was literally shaking apart in front of me. Within a few moments he was gone in the distance and I could not see him any more. When I eventually caught up I was greeted by a giant hole in a hedge to which he was laying the other side in someone's garden. His bike was a right off. The front wheel resembled the crescent of the moon and the forks where pushed back into the frame. After picking himself up and dusting himself down have a guess where we went. ......
You guessed right. ....The pub.

1. Um, hilarious.
2. What does "in excess of 40/50 mph" mean?

bb

 

[jefmcg]

2. What does "in excess of 40/50 mph" mean?

as the witness was 14 years old, I'd guess about 25mph

 

[Starchivore]

It looked like a fair bit of text to read so I checked below first- 32 likes, worth reading then Glad I did.

And I can empathise as my parent's are separated now with my Dad in a bedsit.

 

[Globalti]

1. Um, hilarious.
2. What does "in excess of 40/50 mph" mean?

bb

Lighten up, Dude!