The Dutch cycling culture may well be one of the best things about living in the Netherlands.
The evening was glorious. Sunshine and blue sky. So we decided to try out the newly acquired toddler seat for the back of my bike and do a spot of pedalling. If you live in the Netherlands, you cycle. Punt.
We were cycling for a total of an hour and on our arrival back home, it was already very clear to me that everything would be aching the following day. I was left in little doubt that I would feel like I had been subjected to a torture rack.
Dutch Cyclists Rock
Whilst I admire their ability to cycle with a baby on the front, a toddler on the back, a crate of beer suspended somewhere on the rear side, saddle bags full of groceries and an umbrella in their hand to protect them from the snow- all whilst 8 1/2 months pregnant – I am aware it’s a club I will never be joining. I am just not proficient enough to attempt such cycling heroics. The true Dutch cycling culture may well always allude me.
For more years than I care to admit, I was strictly a fair-weather occasional cyclist who failed to embrace the cycling culture of the locals around me.
Stuart of Accidentally Dutch fame tells of his attempts to cycle with two bikes at the same time. That is a tale of true cycling heroics. Parents regularly cycle past me with their kid’s bike next to them in their hand. Spectator is as close as I am going to get to that particular Dutch habit.
Buying My First Dutch Bike
It was a big day when my Dutch husband took me to the local bike shop to get my very own fiets.
My very first bike without stabilisers was a sparkling red Poppy bike I got as a birthday present at the tender age of six. I loved that bike. I tumbled often on that bike. I cried when it got scratched. My first Dutch bike never quite stirred the same sentiments.
The salesman at the bike shop in Zoetermeer did not hide that he could tell during my proefrit (test ride) that it had been some years since my bottom had been on a saddle. He actually had the tenacity to laugh at my unique cycling style…..
I left with a bike, happy that I could finally embark upon my Dutch cycling journey. Even though I couldn’t reach the floor with my toes whilst sitting on it. The salesman said “Zo hoort het!” But I have never felt entirely safe……
Accessorising My Dutch Bike
It was a huge feat when I bought a baby seat for the front of my bike. I successfully cycled with my eldest son for two years without causing either of us any serious injury.
Not that we were out on the bike daily over the two years, or even weekly for that matter. At a push, aggregating trips out on my two-wheeler, I might squeeze it to a monthly achievement. But still, we were both unscathed.
I radiate with pride at the thought of my integration attempts. Step one of bike inburgering!
Eventually the baby seat at the front transformed into a child seat at the rear, and I occasionally ventured out on two wheels met kinderen. If I really had to.
Cycling with a Wriggly Toddler
By the time I had been in the Netherlands for a number of years, I should certainly have graduated to the ‘shopping and child’ level, possibly even ‘beer crate on the back’ too. But I didn’t.
Even after 18 years that is not the case.
One toddler on the back of my bike was more than enough. A wriggly toddler is surprisingly active even when strapped into a bike seat. The journeys I undertook with a boy swaying from side to side trying to see in front of him were hair-raising. More than once his movements conjured up images of us lying in a ditch, canal or worse….
Getting A Bit More into the Dutch Cycling Culture?
These days my boys are old enough to ride their own bikes everywhere and so it’s just me on my bike. Since moving out of the Randstad to a village in the east of the country my bike and I have become good friends. But notably I always have wind tegen.
I cycle regularly through the countryside to my local farm shop. I load up my saddle bags with shopping, hang bags from my handlebars and sling more shoppers over my shoulders.
I cycle weekly to my yoga lesson.
Sometimes, I just cycle for the sheer hell of it.
There may well be hope for me yet!
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