Time to don the yellow jersey again

It wasn't listed anywhere in the programme of events, but last weekend's European Car-Free Day saw the official launch of my new bicycle. Yes, after years out of the saddle, I have decided to return to two-wheeled commuting, motivated by concern over the environmental effects of continued motoring.

In particular, I was worried that if my car got clamped again in the near future, the life form responsible would face at least the threat of extinction. More generally, I could no longer ignore the fact that, as a motorist in Dublin, I was regularly filling the air we breathe with poisonous invective. This was a problem not only when I got clamped, but also every time I had to spend half an hour driving around looking for one of the 50 legal parking spaces left in the city.

Not that I'm criticising the clampers. In fact, I have always endeavoured to be civil in my dealings with these people, phoning in my credit card details and listening patiently as they explained that the car would be released within one hour, but that I better not call the cops in the meantime and if anyone attempted to follow me, the deal was off. On such occasions I would try to convince myself that these were ordinary guys doing a job, just like the rest of us.

Sure, others may argue that clamping is as much a cynical revenue-raising exercise by Dublin Corporation as an effort to regulate on-street parking, any fair attempt at which might address such issues as the private vehicles parked three-deep outside city-centre Garda stations. But you won't hear any of that anarchist talk from me. Certainly not before I renew my motor tax.

I can't recall when it was I stopped cycling. For years I had a 10-speed racing bike, and I think what happened was that one day I had a puncture, and I meant to fix it. But then - you know how it goes - I got married and had kids instead. Meanwhile, the bike rusted in the back garden. And any time I tried to take it out, the damn thing was still punctured. Until a few weeks ago I finally brought it to the shop for a trade-in, and the proprietor generously offered me a free pair of toe-clips in exchange, as well as the opportunity to buy a new bike at full price. It seemed like a good deal.

So, last Saturday, I left my car at home and cycled into the city to present my formal surrender to the Corporation's traffic management department, which was staffing the car-free information stands. Since then, I've been using the bike daily, taking my chances among the taxis and BMW drivers and all the other crazies. And although the Dublin traffic can be unnerving at first, I find that fear of Dublin bike thieves helps take your mind off it.

Cycling has changed a lot in recent years. Mountain bikes are the big thing now, with handlebars wider than some side-streets. But back in the 1980s, sleek Tour de France-style bikes were the only things to be seen on. We were all caught up in the success of Irish cyclists on the continent, and in those grim days we needed whatever inspiration we could get.

I used to live half an hour's hard cycle from work and, due to a geographical quirk, the route was uphill both ways. It would be dreary in the winter, but you could always escape through fantasy. In reality, you might be ploughing home past Kimmage (the Dublin suburb, not the former professional cyclist), but in your imagination you would be winning a mountain stage of the Tour de France, soaring high above the alpine valleys and the allegations of drug use arising from your effortless 14-minute lead on general classification.

A pensioner on a bike up ahead would become a dangerous Colombian (no offence to my Colombian readers - this is only bike talk) attempting a breakaway. And you would reel him in remorselessly as you passed under the five-kilometre kite en route to the summit of Alpe d'Huez - in reality, Whitehall Road, Terenure. Before you knew it, you were home, the yellow jersey stuck to your back with sweat. Yes, fashions were terrible in the 1980s.

We don't have top professional cyclists any more, but in other respects things have improved. As the Corporation's traffic people told me, for example, Dublin now has 100 kilometres of cycle lanes. Which is an impressive network, although not yet as extensive as the network of footpaths we used back in the 1980s. It's all part of the exciting future the Corporation wants us to embrace.

And I would embrace it with both hands, if I could, but for the moment I'm not letting go of my bike.

fmcnally@irish-times.ie