Chapters (44)
But they were not to retain their position as bold pioneer adventurers long. Soon, every man, youth and boy whose families were above the poverty line was riding a bicycle. For some obscure reason, the male sex tried hard to keep the privilege of bicycle riding to themselves. If a man saw or heard of a woman riding he was horrified. “Unwomanly. Most unwomanly! God knows what the world’s coming to,” he would say; but, excepting the fat and elderly and the sour and envious, the women suspended judgement. They saw possibilities which they were soon to seize. The wife of a doctor in Candleford town was the first woman cyclist in that district. “I should like to tear her off that thing and smack her pretty little backside,” said one old man, grinding his teeth with fury. One of more gentle character sighed and said: “’T’ood break my heart if I saw my wife on one of they,” which those acquainted with the figure of his middle-aged wife thought reasonable.
Their protestations were unavailing; one woman after another appeared riding a glittering new bicycle. In long skirts, it is true, but with most of their petticoats left in the bedroom behind them. Even those women who as yet did not cycle gained something in freedom of movement, for the two or three bulky petticoats formerly worn were replaced by neat serge knickers—heavy and cumbersome knickers, compared with those of today, with many buttons and stiff buttonholes and cambric linings to be sewn in on Saturday nights, but a great improvement on the petticoats.
And oh! the joy of the new means of progression. To cleave the air as though on wings, defying time and space by putting what had been a day’s journey on foot behind one in a couple of hours! Of passing garrulous acquaintances who had formerly held one in one-sided conversation by the roadside for an hour, with a light ting, ting of the bell and a casual wave of recognition.
At first only comparatively well-to-do women rode bicycles; but soon almost every one under forty was a wheel, for those who could not afford to buy a bicycle could hire one for sixpence an hour. The men’s shocked criticism petered out before the fait accompli, and they contented themselves with such mild thrusts as:
Mother’s out upon her bike, enjoying of the fun,
Sister and her beau have gone to take a little run.
The housemaid and the cook are both a-riding on their wheels;
And Daddy’s in the kitchen a-cooking of the meals.
And very good for Daddy it was. He had had all the fun hitherto; now it was his wife’s and daughter’s turn. The knell of the selfish, much-waited-upon, old-fashioned father of the family was sounded by the bicycle bell.