by John Graham

Created on: July 19, 2008

When I grew up our family had no car, or to be more accurate our car, a Ford 8, was raised on blocks in our garage because we had no petrol (gasoline.)

It was wartime so between the age of 6 and 12 the family bicycled everywhere.

We lived in the country a little way out of town up a fairly large hill so cycling down to down was a blast but coming back probably laden with food and bread was a trial. Fortunately my father was retired so there were usually four of us together.

We made trips too to my aunt's house (4 miles), to a local castle and seaside town (about 9 miles), to the mountains to collect blueberries (about 15 miles), and to the county town of Caernarvon and its castle (20 miles) so we were very mobile. Fortunately the only vehicles on the roads were usually some buses and military convoys and, of course, other bikes.

Cycling at night was an adventure because, being wartime, our bike lights were covered and only revealed a tiny slit of light sometimes it was moonless and if we were just a little careless we ended up in the hedge. That happened innumerable times but, being in the country, a wall with thick vegetation bounded the road and crashing into it was more embarrassing than dangerous.

My father exercised the car with what petrol he had every few weeks. When that happened the entire family got in the car and he started it in the garage. It would rumble away going nowhere since it was on blocks but my elder sister and I felt that we have been taken for a long ride. We didn't miss the car otherwise because we had never really experienced it.

Later, when I was in my fifties, I lived for a year without a car and it was a most fulfilling period.

I had moved to Richland, WA, to take up the new job and had left everything I owned in Pittsburgh PA. I lived in a hotel in town about two miles from my office until I could sell the Pittsburgh house, bring my family West and buy a new house.

The time seemed right to be liberated from my car.

I took the opportunity to buy the best bike that I could afford. It had a frame half way between a triathlon machine and a touring bike but the best accessories I could buy. It was housed in my hotel room against the sofa and became a virtual shining work of art that I could admire in the evenings.

I should explain that Richland is situated on the Columbia River near its junction with the Yakima River on the eastern side of Washington State. It hardly ever rains there and it is very dry. The walks and parks along both rivers provided plenty of flat riding trails and the nearby Horse Heaven hills provided good rolling riding.

So I rode to work each day and the bike sat next to me in my office. I certainly didn't want to leave it locked in a frame outside the building.

The only problem was sometimes when I was invited to a party. Once it was a dozen miles away and everything went well until I left for home. Going out into the cold air and mounting my bike I am not sure how I managed to get back to my hotel. Cycling with a little wine in you is not at all comforting.

Learn more about this author, John Graham.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.