It was a tram driver’s strike in Melbourne back in the early Nineties that got me riding a bicycle again as an adult. I was living in Elsternwick that year, one of those old bayside neighbourhoods in the city’s inner south. I didn’t own a car but relied instead on shoe leather and public transport to get around so when the tram drivers’ union announced out of the blue one afternoon that their members were going out on a wildcat strike, starting from midnight, and the city’s bus and train drivers elected to down tools in sympathy, I found myself stuck for a way to get in to work the next morning.
The twelve-mile round trip between home and office seemed just that bit too far to walk and you could grow a beard trying to catch a cab in Melbourne during the rush hour, any rush hour, let alone one during a transport strike. As I sat at my desk that afternoon pondering my options the cheeky idea popped into my head that I could always try riding my bike. And so began a new chapter of my life…

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