Bike by train – not even remotely funny

I decided I would bicycle the train station, get on the train and then cycle up to work – a lovely easy relaxing journey that should take 40minutes, which I thought was pretty good as I could spend 20minutes of that looking out of the window.  The train left at 8:55 so I arrived with my cycle, found the lift, got to the platform and waited. The train arrived and I started to get on but I was directed to carriage G. I was almost at carriage G when the attendant blew his whistle so I had to run to carriage G. I do not do run, especially with a bicycle. I was almost in full pelt (as much as one can be before a second cup of coffee) when I leapt onto Carriage G which was full of people standing around looking menacing.  I couldn’t stop and I managed to get on with half the bike. By this point I was wishing the doors would shut on the bike, cut it on two and thus reduce it to a more manageable size; they didn’t close and the train waited for me to get on properly. I eventually managed to get the bike and me and my satchel onto the train but I couldn’t get my bike into the specified bike rack. To get ones bike in the bike rack involves lifting said two wheeler without impaling oneself of ones fellow man – I am not sure that my coordination is up to that.

 

There were lots of useless suggestions so I said I would loiter just where I was (vaguely impaled and jammed up against the wall). This annoyed the ‘people’ most of whom left muttering under their breath. I would have left with them if my bike had fitted through the window and away from the train. It didn’t. I stayed, fuming.  The remaining cyclist who was jammed in by my bike pointed out the other rather large cycle rack that I had failed to notice as a launched myself past it onto the train.  I looked at it and out came a man, a suitcase and his harp. I know when a battle is lost and decided to continue to loiter where I was.

There was one final attempt to store the cycle sensibly but even that was beyond me so I waited. 

Oxford traffic is mad, especially when viewed through the fuming eyes of a cyclist. I arrived at work but I am dreading the train home.

Apparently one should take the slow train as there is more room for bicycles. I would have to pay an extra 5 pounds for the privilege, but picking up my motorcycle seems so much more appealing right now.