The fixed gear bicycle first appeared on my radar sometime in 2004. If memory serves it was a winter training article in Cycling Plus magazine. This sparked my interest and some Google work later I came across Sheldon Brown who was one of the definitive authorities on all things bicycle and fixed gear(please go there if at this point you are wondering what the hell a fixed gear bicycle is as I am not going to explain) The idea was well and truly embedded and fermenting in my mind by that point. Further trawling of the interwebs lead me to the Fixed Gear Gallery and much goggling of the bike porn in-sued. This sparked my desire to build my own fixed gear bike, and with the knowledge gained from Sheldon I felt I had the tools at hand. What I was not convinced on at that point was that I would actually like riding the damn thing. At that point in time there was no one in the random circle of bike club acquaintances that I knew that had one. So even with these ideas fizzing around my brain I was not as wholly obsessed as I would end up being.

The impetus to push things forward came with finding out about the beginners sessions at the Manchester Velodrome. After doing a recce to find the velodrome and getting lost, I booked a session for a couple of weeks time. The following week were taken up by much research into the ways I could come to a horrible end on a full tilt track bike. So it was in a state of trepidation and excitement I rode of to the velodrome at the allotted time and got lost again. After numerous map stops and back tracking I eventually found myself there sweaty, panting and late. I ran down the stairs almost slipping on my look cleats, to the basement bike storage area. Having found my blue Peugeot hire bike in the rack I made my way up the ramp to the track infield.

At this point I must mention I’d never been to a velodrome in my life much less ridden on one. On first experience a velodrome is an impressive sight. Coming at it from below out of the dark bowels of the basement into the harsh glare of fluorescent light the track is an intimidating sight. The smooth timber reaches skyward appearing almost vertical in the bends. Wow. The architectural physicality is indomitable, what I’d learned from my weeks of research was this was a place of hour records and world champions and that cowed me as much as the shear scale of the place, and I was about to ride it.

The professional cycling coach running the session brought me brusquely back to the moment “your late. You’ve missed the introduction.” shit I thought I’m not going to be able to ride. But no “come out here on the track and we’ll get you started. Don’t forget your helmet.” next she got the seat height right for me. Then positioned by the rail I clipped in too the tightly set cleat and flung my leg over my first fixed gear bike and a track one to boot. Right leg clipped in at the end of a line of motley beginners, we then got our safety briefing which can be summarised as don’t stop pedaling and slow down near the rail so you grab on as its hard to clip out.
So of we went, the bikes were geared for beginners, but to my freewheel softened legs it felt over geared to get it going. A couple of good strong efforts out of the saddle, wow the power transfer is amazing I thought as I dropped my behind back into the saddle and went to coast.. Bam I’m back in the room, after the pedal kick tries to heave me over the bars, with only my nervous death grip and slow speed saving a face plant on the concrete. I’m a a quarter of the way round the track and learnt my lesson almost the hard way. So I settle my arse down and slowly pedal my way round the infield watching most the other noobs repeat my mistake. After a full lap I finally quell my racing heartbeat and start to enjoy the fluid experience a little…till I think about stopping.

Not wanting to embarrass my self I try slowing the bike on the back straight away from the instructors eyes. And actually resisting back against the pedals wasn’t too bad, I did slow down, I could do this. Bearing in mind I was only doing eight miles an hour in the first place. “Shit! too slow” and I almost topple onto the infield. a wobble later and I’m moving. The instructor yells out to come and stop near her again on the start/finish straight. I pootle round and manage to stop with my legs and grab the rail just behind the person in front.

We’re being let loose on the boards proper now, only up to the blue line. So yea the flat bit. At this point its learning about were to enter and exit the track and holding a line. After a couple of laps the instructor brings us in again and tells us now its time to work our way up the track and on the banking proper “just pedal as fast as possible through the corners and you wont fall off” is as reassuring as it gets. Now is a good time to mention I don’t like heights, I get the wobbles standing on a chair, ladders “no thanks” and this banking was higher than my house. So of we go onto the track all sprinting like crazy in a line to the first corner and we all go round fine. My stress raddled brain remembers the stuff I learnt from Keith Code’s books about looking through the corner when I was learning to ride motorbikes and that helps me round the corner.

We all ease of a bit once on the back straight for a rest then hammer again into turn three. Around and round we go, the full sprint efforts into the corners gets the better of me and a few others who roll of for a rest and water. Feeling more comfortable and relaxed I start to have a better look around the place and fully take it in. The track is not as smooth as it first seems, there are a couple of distinct gouge lines which can only be the result of some ones fall.

Feeling suitably chastened by this thought I venture on the track again but I soon pump up to speed again enjoying the stiff responsive cro-mo track frame, it really was a joy to ride.

We had been taught about proper track etiquette of only passing on the right and who had right of way, so I was reasonably happy going around overtaking the odd slow cyclist and holding my line when being overtaken. Along the start finish straight I overtook a slower rider then dropped down again to fall into line when I realised the rider in front was going quite slow. No problem I thought and slowed myself down, to a speed which was slower than I’d ever entered the corner ah…the fear of heights impinged in my brain again and I looked left to where the hard concrete floor lay un-yielding. I started to slowly drift down the bend, the bike steering by my fear ravaged eyes down. At this point I rode over the gouge I saw earlier and the little tweak was enough to draw my attention back up from my potential splinter slide and focus on the other side of the corner which brought me back on line.

We finished of our hour session and let the teenagers from the local bike club come on and show us how it was really done. Exhausted yet elated I left and rode home on my road bike not freewheeling once, but managing to get lost again. So I arrived home shattered with nothing on my mind but building this bike below, which is an other story.