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OPINION

Carless Whisper

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VecchioJo Is never gonna drive again, the way he drove with you

I have to say goodbye to an old riding friend.

Even though I know this has been coming for quite some time it still hurts, over the 15 years or so we’ve known each other we’ve become good companions. We’ve done a lot of bike stuff together; road, cyclo-cross and mountainbike, we didn’t mind that we’re crossing the genre streams, we enjoyed them all equally and we traveled together all over the place to do them, up early, back late, tired and often muddy. Weekends loaded up with bikes and bags in the back, pointed to the hillier parts of the country, clattering up some motorway or other, having to shout ever so slightly above the road, engine and hi-fi noise.

I’ll miss that car.

I am on the whole ambivalent to the automobile, I can happily admire it for its engineering genius or its beautiful lines but that’s where it stops, I’ve never felt the rampant need and insatiable desire that others do towards the car. I was late to learning to drive, that only happened when my Student Rail Card ran out at 25 and travel got expensive, then my sister and I shared a car; an old banger that we were given because it was probably going to fail its MOT in a few months but it somehow battled on to finally die a couple of years later in several puffs of blue smoke. The majority of my traveling life can be dealt with by bicycles or feet, the car is merely a sometimes useful tool.

I am rare and lucky enough not to have to use a car every day, I mostly had to come up with excuses to use that car once a week or so to keep it ticking over, crack the calipers away from the discs, move it away from the front of someone else’s house so they didn’t report it as abandoned, and sometimes just to remind myself how all those pedals and levers worked. Sit in the driving seat and mime the actions for a bit. A trip up the road to do a Big Shop was all it would be called upon to perform too much of the time, for when that bulk pack of loo-roll, box of 48 Weetabix and special on cat food was just too much for a bike and a courier bag.

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When it wasn’t doing that it would be clanking off to distant corners of the country, a servitude of two-mile round trips interspersed with several hundred mile thrashes was probably not the best exercise regime for an engine. Graunching away from the kerb it had a bike in the back pretty much all of the time, or two, or three, and was frequently loaded right to the roof with Stuff for a long weekend away with bikes, whether that be racing or just mucking about with mates. Packed with a Tetris like skill that only comes with frequency and familiarity It would jauntily sit low on its haunches as it jalopied up the motorway, battling it out with the BMWs and Audis in a brash display of excitement and enthusiasm as it wagged its tail, glad to be allowed out. Overheating slightly.

It was less a car and more a bicycle delivery vehicle, a happy portal to adventures and fun. It was never some dreaded day-to-day necessity, a mandatory drudge stuck in yet another rush hour jam listening to enforced cheerfulness drive time. Seldom a taxi for someone apart from the odd 3am airport run, although there was that time when the car was used in more what we’ll have to bitterly call a normal way and it become a vehicle of discontent and resentment, but we’ll gloss over that blip. I’m someone that’s always been quite happy to ride a bike to the shops, to friends, or the few miles into town for chores and jollies, or to ride to the top of the hill, or to ride to the start of ride, not because I’m being smug, or hippyhugging the planet, although these are useful side effects, just because it’s usually quicker, easier and cheaper.

I usually did more cycling miles than driving miles each year and undoubtedly it was never an economically viable vehicle as it was willfully stationary most of the time, but it was handy for getting to car parks and fields in the out of the way places far from the reach of public transport as bicycle events and remote hillsides tend to be. But as the beast got older and petrol got more spendy and the roads got busier, snarlier and angrier it was used even less and less and whenever there was an offer of heading away somewhere distant the drive time/ride time equation was carefully calculated and the worthwhile pondered. You can get a lot of riding done in the hours spent in a car.

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Once a year it was given a wash prior to the MOT, the evidence of cyclo-cross and mountainbike race venues cleaned off the skirts, and the insides given a bit of a tidy of bike and travel detritus. Oh, so that’s where that went. Old race numbers, a geologist’s smorgasbord of muds, cardboard inners from race tape, torn oiled rugs and blankets for sandwiching between bikes, an assortment of take-away coffee lids, zip-ties and screwed up bits of paper with directions on. That allen key. And the seats had their annual Folded Back Up Day and it was weird not having the feeling of space spreading out the back of the head and it felt like a granddad’s car.

I slept in the front seat often, a quick nap after races to wake up to a now deserted field, or stopping on the way home, snoozing in a quiet corner of the services car-park before sticky-mouthed blearying inside to grab a coffee and a bun and crack on into the night. It seemed to revel in the dark lonely highway that car, find its groove, or maybe that was just me. All to a soundtrack of compilation minidisks, CDs and local radio surfing, songs from which will always be associated with that car and specific snapshots in time on certain roads. That tune whose beat was in exactly the same tempo as the windscreen wipers on that black rainy emotional drive back along the A36.

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There’s a long list of significant people who have wandered in and out of my history who have sat in the passenger seat and maybe shared the driving for a bit. The chatty ones, the quiet ones, the ones that slept most of the way after a tough bike ride, dreamsteering their bikes in synch with the curves of the road, the ones I would glance over at every so often. The ones that would glance over and ask if I was alright. Yup, fine. Stop for a wee at the next services?

After long enough for people to remark, “Blimey, do you still have that car?” things started to fail and be mended and fail again and we started the slide into the money pit. Then it finally broke beyond my financial means and it continued to stay broken for a suitable amount of time to realise that I could actually get by without having a car at all. Ride to the shops more frequently, or walk if there was something heavy to carry. Casually browse cargo bikes. Cadge a lift when necessary and be that slightly annoying person that added 20 minutes to the journey but tried to make up for it by bringing snacks for the return journey, meet a driver in a petrol station where possible, take the train. Be more local.

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Deep down there was always the hope that I could raise the funds to revive her but as the tyres sunk further into the gutter and moss became increasingly structural it really was never going to happen. It was only a deep emotional inability to let go, a profound sense of history and maybe that the car was not just old any more but nestling nicely into a modern classic and was worth more than it should be that kept me hanging on. I’m sure the neighbours hated that car just sat there, depriving them of their genuine parking space.

I am on the whole ambivalent to the automobile, they are merely a sometimes useful tool. But I’ll miss putting bikes in the back of that car. Back wheel in first, cranks just right so the left-hand pedal fits in the fold of the seat, blanket over top, front wheel on that, big bag of kit by the off side passenger door.

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Thank you. We went places. We did some stuff eh? 

Jo Burt has spent the majority of his life riding bikes, drawing bikes and writing about bikes. When he's not scribbling pictures for the whole gamut of cycling media he writes words about them for road.cc and when he's not doing either of those he's pedaling. Then in whatever spare minutes there are in between he's agonizing over getting his socks, cycling cap and bar-tape to coordinate just so. And is quietly disappointed that yours don't He rides and races road bikes a bit, cyclo-cross bikes a lot and mountainbikes a fair bit too. Would rather be up a mountain.

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16 comments

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brakesmadly | 7 years ago
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"Back wheel in first, cranks just right so the left-hand pedal fits in the fold of the seat, blanket over top, front wheel on that, big bag of kit by the off side passenger door."

Made me smile, I have the same routine, although my car really is too nice to be suffering like that.

Like you, I cycled more miles than I drove last year - then I also worked out that nearly half the miles I did drive were with the bike in the car heading to events!

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DrJDog | 7 years ago
1 like

My dad still has his Mk 2 Gti, 1990 model, H reg. Getting more and more decrepit each time I see it, but (when it runs well) it is a terrific car.

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Mungecrundle | 7 years ago
1 like

Cars are fantastic. They go where you want, when you want in comfort and safety. Often for less than the cost of public transport, especially with multiple occupants.

As this article demonstrates, even people who claim to be not into cars still seem to have a soft spot for them. If not for the vehicle itself then for the memories of things done. Or maybe Vecchio Jo will be reminiscing about his old sofa or fridge next week?

On the plus side for the rest of us, one less old and potentially mechanically unsafe vehicle off the road.

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Bmblbzzz | 7 years ago
1 like

Good read. Thank you. I reached that point ten years ago but in a far more sudden way, as a byproduct of other drastic events in my life. Never looked back. 

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LastBoyScout | 7 years ago
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My last car spent most of it's weekends loaded up with bikes, surf boards, boats, camping gear and mates - sometimes all at the same time. I still miss that car.

Current car is mainly loaded up with push-chairs and car seats, but that's life with 2 little kids - hopefully get back to it when they're a bit older.

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Nathan79 | 7 years ago
1 like

I can empathise, call it an epiphany if you will. I've always liked cars and over the years owned a number of fast/ flashy / ridiculous (delete as appropriate) models. However I've always loved bikes and now in my late 30's that love has truly taken over. I've flogged the huge Merc 4x4 and downgraded to an old meriva, (still need some transport, I've 3 kids to run around) but this has made me realise that It's just a means to an end. As long as the kids fit in and I can get a bike rack on the back I'm happy. Plus when it goes wrong its a lot cheaper to fix and has freed up substantial funds for new bikes  1

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Al__S | 7 years ago
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when my car died, about ten years ago now (bloody hell), it still hand beach sand from the previous year's adventures in south west france ground into the carpets. A tool. Never an object of desire. I mean, christ, it was a diesel Astra estate, I'd worry about anyone that dreamed of owning one of those. But it took me to far off places, swallowed stuff and was happy towing things or having bits strapped to the roof rack.

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therevokid | 7 years ago
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mine gets used that infrequently I can't remember where the key is which could

present a problem as the annual "visit" is due next week !!!

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sm | 7 years ago
2 likes

Enjoyed that, thank you. I have a similar machine designed for bike transportation to far away places. Cost less than my bike. Used less. Dirtier. Very handy though.

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IanW1968 | 7 years ago
5 likes

Titles too short and the pictures too abstract. 

Good first effort but you're trying too hard. 

Oh and what sot of name is that? 

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davel replied to IanW1968 | 7 years ago
4 likes
IanW1968 wrote:

Titles too short and the pictures too abstract. 

Good first effort but you're trying too hard. 

Oh and what sot of name is that? 

Hush now. It's called authenticity. He's got Rouleur and Bianchi stickers, maybe ironically, damnit.

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SingleSpeed replied to IanW1968 | 7 years ago
5 likes

IanW1968 wrote:

Titles too short and the pictures too abstract. 

Good first effort but you're trying too hard. 

Oh and what sot of name is that? 

 

You sir, are talking to Mountain Bike Royality, show some damn respect.

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Swiss | 7 years ago
2 likes

Mk 2 golf

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Yorkshire wallet replied to Swiss | 7 years ago
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Swiss wrote:

Mk 2 golf

Definite 1980s VW interior.

I was a bit more into my cars that this fella though. I'd often be found crawling underneath, fitting a new, stiffer anti-roll bar or whatever. My 1988 Scirocco came after my Golf and was my pride and joy until I totalled it. The folly of youth and all that.

New cars are utterly shite, in a too good for themselves way. I don't even need to modulate the throttle in a corner in my current one. Run in hot and it brakes for me, even with foot still mashed into the floor. It's an utterly soulless experience even it's maybe faster if you took it round a track and compared it against something similar from 30 years ago. Cars all look like aero blobs now and the electronics are so good even an idiot can hammer a RWD car.

One day I'll win the lottery and get myself that trackday Lancia Stratos I always wanted.

 

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Simon E replied to Swiss | 7 years ago
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Swiss wrote:

Mk 2 golf

I thought the same.

It's the best model they ever made (I owned/regularly drove at least 4). Went downhill after the mk3.

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Morat | 7 years ago
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Is there a prize for guessing the make/model?  1

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