A little bit of history

I've told you all before that I'm cycling to Paris because my friend is going to buy me a Monaco but I haven't ever told you why the bike was the natural choice for mode of transport. As I've not cycled in a couple of days I'll take this opportunity to give you a little background information.

It all began one evening during a quiz night in the 5th Bar. The Fifth; a tiny, dark bar found in the Latin Quarter on Rue Mouftard, was the perfect hang out for penniless idealists such as I was. This bar was to become the place where most of our Parisienne adventures would begin or end, but on this particular occasion it was mearly a plan to get free beer. I had been invited to join a new friend, Jorge, at the bar to help answer questions. The first prize of a free drink for the winning team was a goal we really wanted to achieve, however the last prize of a really disgusting free drink was also worth it, given that we had no money and we wanted alcohol.

I arrived late, a trait I'd picked up from Karim "I'll be there soon" Fekar, and the team weren't doing well. They were positioned 3rd or 4th which was definitely not in the free beer zone. I was quickly introduced to everyone on the table as "the guy whose gonna answer the questions" and then thrown into the last round, music. Fifteen minutes later we had managed to come first. Being hailed the man with all the answers was a little embarrassing as it had been more like luck for my part. The quiz master, a Glaswegian barman called Roddy, had managed to pick all the songs I like and the rest of the bar was filled with non-English speaking drunkards. That fact aside, I was now celebrating with a new group of friends over a free beer. A nice tasting free beer. Returning home that night on the Metro I was smiling quietly to myself because I'd made new friends and gotten a little tipsy on free beer on an empty stomach.

The meet at the fifth became a regular occurrence for us. I'd usually stay until the last train was due then rush off home but inevitably, one evening, I missed the last Metro. After the bar had finally closed Karim, Jorge and I walked to Hotel de Ville where Karim and I could catch the night bus home. Jorge had a bike. I remember thinking that it would be nice to be cycling the streets of Paris that night. It was quiet, warm and I was drunk. I asked Jorge where he'd gotten the bike from.
He said "I was doing some work for a guy clearing an apartment, We were chucking everything out to make room for renovations. This was thrown in the skip along with all the other rubbish but it was an almost complete bike. I wanted it because I can't afford to ride the Metro so I grabbed it and took it home."
"So, what was missing," I said.
"Oh, it had bad wheels, no brakes and no seat, but everything else was there."
"Right," I said. "So how did you afford to get all the bits for it?"
"Ha, I didn't buy anything, have you seen all the abandoned bikes this city has?" To illustrate a good point he waved his arm vaguely towards the Hotel de Ville to reveal a pile of abandoned bikes. They were chained to railings that had been removed to make way, ironically, for the Velib, the cities new public bike hire initiative."
"So, you cycle around Paris reclaiming old bits of bike?" I said, a little surprised that it could be that easy.
"Yeah, I'll show you. I need a new wheel, and tires too if there are any good ones."
I called Karim over to let him know we were going to hunt for a new bike wheel and off we went to the pile of bikes to get an upgrade.

That was my introduction to Jorge's bike Petronilla, an old 80's Italian road bike. When Jorge left Paris for Montreal he handed me petronilla on the condition that I look after her in the same way. Only from reclaimed parts. When I left Paris for Edinburgh I did the same, giving the bike to Karim on the same terms. The only thing that changed was her name, from Petronilla to Petronina, because Karim and I couldn't agree on what Jorge had called her. His Mexican/Irish accent had blurred things a bit.

When the subject of me visiting Karim for a drink came up around the same time that I had absolutely no money I knew I had to improvise a way to get there. It was a natural choice to honour Petronilla and cycle to Paris for a Monaco.

So that is a brief history of how I've come to be cycling to France. Why is a Monaco involved. Well, beer is usually involved in these sorts of ventures but a Monaco has particular significance as it is Karim's choice of drink. Mainly because it is almost entirely made out of sugar and has almost no alcohol in it.