Paul has had little luck with bicycles.

To be honest, I haven’t had a lot of luck with bikes. Like…

…in 1982 when the shed in our backyard was burnt to the ground by arsonists. They had been looking for oxyacetylene equipment to steal in order to cut the safe at the local RSL. They couldn’t find any equipment in our shed because we didn’t have any. Their intel was out – it was the neighbour over our back fence that had the gear. Never the less, the thieves spread the mower fuel around the shed and lit it up. My prized red scooter was cremated.

…in 1983 when, prior to our shed being rebuilt, Dad chained the purple dragster to the fence when we went fishing over the summer. This hand-me-down bike from my cousin was stolen whilst we were away. Dad had made the mistake of not threading the security chain and lock through the frame and rear wheel, so all that was left when we returned from fishing was a lonely front wheel.

…in 1995 when I was trying to sell my road bike in order to purchase something more suited to commuting. Mum and Dad were shareholders in the Elpin Market and run a hand made leather craft stall there every week for years. I had my bike advertised for sale next to their stall, and when it didn’t sell it was left securely at the stall in the locked up Show Ground Market. My luck ran out when thieves broke into the pavilion and stole thousands of dollars worth of my parents leather craft stock, and pinched my bike.

….in 1998 when I chained my Diamond Back Topanga commuting bike to the lolly-pop light out the front of a gym in Adelaide (pictured to the left). I completed my gym session and returned to the light post only to find my bike had been, presumably, lifted over the top of the light bulb and ridden away. I still can’t understand how this could happen right in the entrance to the gym at 5-6pm at night when scores of people are walking passed.

So the tide turned in summer of 2000, when I was back in Launceston working at the gym and I returned to my locked up bike after a shift. As was my routine, I had u-bolted my commuter bike to the Give Way sign on the corner of William and St John Streets (long before traffic lights were installed there), but on this evening when I returned to the bike, a pin in the lock had failed and it would not disengage. I considered my options, made a mercy call to my Dad, and he drove in with a small step ladder and shifting spanner. We proceeded to unbolt the Give Way sign, lift my bike up and off the naked pole, and replace the sign. Reasonable plan, that went without a hitch – at least for me. Given the fading light, Dad waved me off and said he would finish re-bolting the sign in place while I ride home. I obliged and thought no more of it. When Dad got home, he said that the moment I left the scene, two Police cars arrived and questioned his actions. They were very serious. He was told he could be charged with tampering with a traffic sign – fair point – and that who ever had reported the incident, said that there was also a bike being stolen (where was that Good Samaritan in 1998?). Dad pleaded his case, explaining the series of events to which the Officers involved indicated that “no one is likely to make up a story like that on the spot”, and deduced that Dad must have been telling the truth. Dad was released without charge and told to not touch another traffic sign for as long as he shall live.

That was my Dad though. Like his father before him, he was a man of action. He would do anything for his family. He was a problem solver, and he always seemed to have the right tools and the right plan to solve any problem. That’s what I admire about my Dad.