When my bike was assembled for this trip and I sat on it for the first time, I was asked: “Well girl, how does it feel?”
To which I answered: “Uhh… like a bike?”
It felt good, I thought, but honestly, I had no idea what ‘good’ was even supposed to feel like.
As soon as the words left my mouth, I realised how ridiculous I must have sounded, considering the ambitious plans I had with this bike.
I did a little test ride and came back, still unsure if everything felt right. The guys at the bike shop looked at me expectantly. So I nodded seriously and said, “Yeah… I think the handlebars could go a bit more forward.”
Did I feel that?
Not really.
Did I know what that would even change?
Eh, no.
But I said it with such confidence that they actually adjusted it. I think they still assumed I was some kind of serious cyclist.
Well, I’m not.
And to embarrass myself even further: I was born and raised in the Netherlands; a country where cycling isn’t just a hobby, but a way of life.
In the Netherlands, riding a bike feels as instinctive as breathing. With the infrastructure perfectly designed for it, the bicycle has always been my go-to mode of transport. To go to school, to visit friends, to grab groceries; I hop on my bike without even thinking about it.
But to be honest, when I got a flat tire, I looked at my dad with puppy eyes (shame on me). And when the chain slipped, I was already at the bike shop before I even realised I had simply shifted incorrectly. I just couldn’t care less about bike mechanics.
So, it’s actually quite interesting that I have now decided on cycling the world. How does that work?
Well, for me, it’s not about the act of biking itself. I’m not chasing speed or counting kilometers. I’m in it for the adventure.
The bike lets me travel slowly, actively and close to the people and places I pass. Instead of hopping from city to city, I get to see what happens in between, the small towns, the quiet roads, the everyday life. The bike makes that possible.
So no, I wouldn’t call myself a ‘cyclist’. I’m more of a traveler who happens to be moving by bike.
Of course, there are times when I wish I had paid more attention to my dad’s lessons on bike mechanics. Well, no worries though, I have Bernardo now!
Just kidding. I’m determined to figure things out for myself. Learning by doing, right? Tackling problems as they pop up, getting a little more capable with every technical hiccup.
So, to put that mindset to the test, I decided to spend three days cycling solo in Chiang Mai, which you can read about in this article.
Honestly, before leaving, the possibility of a technical problem was my only concern. I would be without Bernardo. Maybe even without a single person around to help, completely on my own. That thought scared me, and that’s exactly why I went.
That kind of confidence, that level of independence on the bike, is something I want to have. And to get there, I know I’ll have to fall flat on my face at least once. Only then will I experience what it’s like to get back up on my own.
But sadly… my princess carried me through the entire trip without a single technical hiccup. How disappointing! (not)
So, I’m not quite at that level of independence yet.
Luckily, Bernardo doesn’t just fix problems, he helps me avoid them too. And I’m learning from those (tough) lessons…
He has probably yelled “Watch the derailleur!” at me a dozen times when I’ve recklessly dropped my bike on the wrong side.
And every time, I thought: ‘The derailleur?’ (turns out to be a super sensitive mechanism sticking out on one side of the bike that doesn’t like hitting the ground….whoops).
At first, I tried to fake knowing what he meant. So what did I do? Just moved the bike a few centimeters up or down, still on the wrong side, right where the derailleur is.
Expert move, I know.
Obviously, Bernardo knew right away that I had no idea what he meant. But after a few firm lessons, I finally got it. Now I at least know the derailleur is something very very important. Progress!
So if you see me cycling out there, know I’m not just chasing adventure. I’m slowly mastering bike mechanics too (dad must be proud hehe).
And since the trip is on pause for now, you might think this would be the perfect time to study up. To dive into derailleur theory and master the mechanics.
Well… I’m afraid I’ll never feel the urge to learn that stuff, unless I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with no other option. That might be the only moment I’ll feel truly motivated.
I do want the result, though. I want to feel calm and capable when things break. But getting there? Honestly, it feels a bit like flossing. You know it’s good for you, but you have to force yourself every single time. I might regret this mentality badly, but that will be part of the adventure too.
So yea, I think that’s it for now.
What about you, dear reader? Do you travel by bike? Do you consider yourself a cyclist or a traveler?
Curious to hear your story!
Jule Noah
Hey Jules, this post was super lovely to read as I resonate with this deeply. Before taking on cross country cycle touring I was just a girl riding around my bicycle in the city of Melbourne, Australia. To challenge myself to be more trusting of myself & resilient, I rode the length of NZ & vietnam. I watched some videos to familiarise myself with some parts of the bike & I would have to say walking in with some prior knowledge helps.
But it was spending a lot of time on my bike, on sorts of terrain & weather, day after day that I began to really get to know my bike. I heard certain sounds, felt what was beneath my feet and understood when something felt off or loose. I don’t consider myself a cyclist either but just a girl who likes to see real places the slow way. So thank for sharing, it’s heartening read admist a culture or racing & gear obsessed bros.
Currently back in Melbourne saving money for my Asia to Europe cycle tour. So maybe we’ll cross paths !
Yes, your daddy is proud! Not only about your technicus skills! Xx