Not Really But Maybe

I was just returning to my locked bike when I saw a familiar sight: An old fellow taking close interest in my Bob Jackson. This happens perhaps two or three times a week. The conversation usually follows the same lines each time but it is always a pleasure to chat to a guy who rode the same bikes as us 50 or 60 years ago. Some have tales of great adventures at the velodrome, drunk riding, near misses, huge milages, acts of bravery. The lot. It sometimes sounds like things have not changed that much in the last 100years.

I found out a few weeks ago that there used to be a grass velodrome less than half a mile from where I now live. There is no information on this anywhere online. The guy who told me about the track said that he and his mates used to ride 60miles to the velodrome with their track wheelset on their backs, race all day, ride on to Mumbles for some ale then ride the 60miles back home again, all in one day!

I've also heard the entire history of the South Wales club scene, going back to the first ever club founded. I've heard about the local legends, who was the craziest, who was the fastest and who was always last. I've heard who is dead and who is still alive, who still rides everyday and who retired long ago.

I've heard the story of when everything started to change. When such a thing as a 'cycling industry' began to emerge. It seems that the clubs and riders of the day resisted at first. They refused to buy expensive 'cycle specific clothing'. "It was a waste of bloody money. If it was cold then we'd just put on another wooly jumper", I was told. Soon though it was all about brands and keeping up and improving performance. The hardcore back then, for a time anyway, stuck to their guns and kept it about the riding.