I did it. I actually did it.
Mills popped home at lunchtime to find me psyching myself up on the couch. TV off, radio off... I was literally psyching myself up for The Bike.
Go downstairs, get bike wedged sideways in storeroom as I attempt to turn it around. Get bike through first doorway, get stuck between bike and door. Get stuck between bike and next doorway. Get front wheel wedged at an angle up first step and between second doorway. Hide out of sight as neighbour comes down the stairs. (Sure, they must have thought the spastic abandoned bike looked odd, but at least they couldn't see who it belonged to.) Get bike up small flight of stairs. Get bike and self halfway through front door, front door closes on bike and self. Disengage bike and self from front door. Get on bike.
And off I set. Anybody listening to my mutterings as I cycled past would've been treated to some pearlers, especially when I hit bumpy patches in the tarmac: "Oh my verkrampte koekie!" Although, most of the trip was spent chanting, "pleasedon'tcrash, pleasedon'tcrash, pleasedon'tcrash..." The gusts of strong wind certainly don't help, and it did take a while for me to get enough feeling back in my fingers to type, but I made it.
I'm in town, and I cycled here. I'm not fooling myself though, there's no ways I look like a local. When pedestrians see me coming towards them, they smile knowingly and then take an extra big step back on the pavement.
Now I've just got to get home again. I hope I can find my bike.