3 months ago I bought a trike. Its fun. Its easy. It is not as powerful or as flexible as my old stabilised bike, but it is more stable and dependable. I expressed a strong opinion for stabilisers before, so I feel I need to update this blog.
 
So why did I change? Sadly, my condition is not fixed. Multiple sclerosis is an unpleasant mixture of plateaus and deterioration with no particular predictability. Over the last 2 years it has been too much of the latter for my taste. The stabilisers were a brilliant short-term solution for me, I had a fantastic year on them, but sadly interrupted by Covid and lockdowns (one of my motivations was travelling, and that became a non-issue). 
 
Ultimately though they were not able to keep up with my changing needs. I needed more stability and more dependability, and stabilisers were not able to keep up. Partly it was because they were always ad hoc, added to a larger bike than intended. I needed slightly wider arms, slightly bigger wheels. This is a common problem I find: I’m long limbed and six foot tall and a lot of mobility aids are not well suited to my frame.
 
I am still convinced that good adult stabilisers can be an excellent solution, but sadly I don’t have the time, energy and flexibility to explore that space as I originally intended. My twitter handle will remain at @4wheelstable and I’m very happy to discuss trikes vs. stabilisers on that platform.

Moving on four wheels has been quite a change, some for the good, some for ill. This is a bit of a list of things I have discovered when travelling around. Most of these apply to trikes too but I’ll stick to my own experiences and talk about 4 rather than 3 wheels. 
 
Getting going on a newly stabilised bike is not the easiest! You have more wheels, right? What could go wrong? First up is the weirdest, you have to unlearn some of the ways you ride a bike before you can learn to ride with stabilisers. Corners. Lean in, right? Wrong. Lean in and the inner stabiliser makes contact first and pushes you the wrong way. This is really odd. You have to learn how to lean out and actually turn the wheel, something you probably stopped doing much without realising. Anyway, after a nervous few weeks I got the hang of it. Someone more coordinated than me probably would manage it much more easily.
 
Then there is what to look out for. Suddenly camber matters. A lot. If the ground is sloping you skim over it with nary a thought on a bike, but now it means everything. Like it or not the uphill wheel is making contact with the ground and this probably will push you onto the downhill wheel. You have to be ready for it. Short stretches of camber are even worse as they can pitch you really sharply in unpleasant directions. And any undulation, ramp or deformity that is not perpendicular to the direction of travel poses something to be aware of. And there are many of them on cycle infrastructure that has been put in subserviently to the car. And then there are speed pillows. I now have nightmares about speed pillows. I’m surprised they didn’t form part of the Atlantic wall.
 
So much for the bad, the good. There is lots to list here. First of all, stopping and starting. How easy is that. No more junction trauma for me. You just sit there! 0kph, 2kph, 20kph its all the same with those extra wheels. One great thing which I wasn’t expecting is the ability to meander along at walking pace at the same height as someone walking to have a conversation. This is a big bugbear of mine in a scooter, but now I can even adjust my height (with the drop saddle) to what is needed. Once the general weirdness had passed, low speed manoeuvres are a dream. I can cycle easily round weird barriers and can even weave my way into the local gym to my weekly exercise class (who have kindly let me do this). 
 
This leads to another point. I’m now visibly not simply a cyclist. In fact, I’m on a mobility scooter that I pedal. This has caused some interesting reactions, good, bad and ugly. I’ve had some lovely conversations with people who are really impressed by how a bit of engineering has enabled so much. On the bad side there are sadly a minority who can’t see past that its bike, I’m a cyclist and who are unable to make an effort to understand. I often have to make seemingly odd decisions to evade funny cambers on paths and roads, and this raises the ire of some, even though I am not travelling fast and can easily, and often do, travel at walking pace. One incident I sadly had to report to the local police as a hate crime, so venomously was I upbraided.
 
The boost to my confidence has been huge. I feel visible and broadly speaking this has been unquestionably positive on the roads. I can get places that were becoming out of bounds. With a new confidence that this really is a mobility aid -- I can stop, start and meander as I please -- I can access the city centre as never before. I’ve been to events, the theatre, gone shopping with the kids (parking is a different matter) and work is a simple ride away (parking is quite different here).
 
Not everyone can experience the benefit cycling can bring, but I challenge anyone to at least give it go. There are so many different ways cycles can be adapted for specific needs. Maybe it’s not for you, but maybe it is and there is an amazing number of new experiences and challenges for you to find. It could be Snaefell* or just that annoying ramp to get into the local park, it doesn’t matter.

*disclaimer: I did not make it up Snaefell. Not even close.

Other blogs

With multiple sclerosis I treasure time I can spend doing things with my whole family, and my disability not being centre stage and dictating what is possible. Sadly, some 6 months ago I reluctantly concluded I was no longer safe on my lightly adapted, but otherwise standard, two wheel e-bike. I was fine when I was moving, but stopping and starting was becoming a lottery. I had the energy for only a few starts per ride and unexpected stops were becoming a danger. So, I needed more wheels, but how many? And where? And how? ​

This is very much my account of what I have done to my bike to make it a cycle I can use. What works for me may not work for everyone, but hopefully I can layout the logic of why I chose what I did and why it works for me.
 
First of all, me. I have multiple sclerosis. I’m now in the hinterland between the relapse-remitting and secondary progressive forms of the condition. I tire easily and my walking range has shrunk alarmingly. It is pretty much non existent now without sticks, and a few hundred metres on a good day with. A few too many falls when walking and a cracked rib or two have damaged my hitherto gung-ho confidence. Cycling has been a massive escape from this. I was never a committed cyclist before, just a regular utility cyclist – it is the quickest way to get around where I live. Disability has changed that. It is now the only way I can get around independently. Shifting to an e-bike early has enabled me to keep cycling and try some really amazing challenges.
 
Second, the bike. Well over 5 years ago, after much debate, I saved up and bought a front wheel motor gazelle e-bike as my primary commuting vehicle from my local bike shop, Cycle Heaven. Then, after its motor broke and gazelle stepped up, I was able to replace it, at cost, with a more advanced bike: a Chamonix t10 with a Bosch bottom bracket motor. With a bit of extra tinkering – ergo pedals, butterfly bars, new gearing and, most importantly so I could get my feet on the floor, an air pressure drop saddle. Cycle heaven have been amazing in providing the support for me to make these changes and adjust the bike as my condition has changed.
 
So, the choices. Extra wheels come in all manner of ways on a new bike. I could go delta trike, upright or recumbent, I could go tadpole, upright or recumbent, or something more exotic. The recumbent trikes I am familiar with, and they are superb machines, either as deltas (I had a go on a Hase) or as tadpoles (I had a go on an ICE trike). They were great, but with MS, gravity is really important to help you and you use subtly different muscle groups on a recumbent; I found it hard going. So, uprights. The problem with uprights is moving them around. They are big beasts. I have done many of my trips involving moving the bike both by train or by car. Moving an upright trike with a car either means a trailer, or one that folds, which would likely take up all the boot and I would be able to use independently. No more ferry trips unless I was to invest more money in a trailer. And I think we can quietly forget about trains. The more exotic options (such as quads) are even worse in this regard. 
 
I wanted to investigate stabilisers. I am rather attached to my bike and some of the price tags for a trike upgrade were a bit wince worthy. Initial investigations were not hopeful – the consensus on social media was clear: “Why have a rubbish trike?” and the first adult stabilisers I found were rigid and a bit industrial. I really was going to end up with no better than a crap trike, but with worse handling and no improvement on transport. 
 
But a bit more digging turned up some more recent stabilisers on the market. Firstly the model from EZ trainer, a Canadian company, looked great: sprung to ease the handling and removable, but alas, not compatible with a rack mounted rear battery. Then I came across some by a small company called Roodog; they had recently started fitting stabilisers to their own e-bikes. A large plate would be mounted on each side of the rear wheel and onto that a shocked, hinged arm would be added. This immediately appealed. By undoing a couple of bolts the arm could swing up so the bike could go on a standard e-bike rack. A couple more and they could be removed entirely. Better still they are not too far away, out near Hornsea. Holidays with the kids were back on!
 
A few phone calls later and I was on my way to Hornsea. Scott helpful fitted them to my bike while I waited and then it was time to give them a go. Frankly, I was awful. Obviously the MS contributed to my shaking like a leaf, jumping at every slight bump in the road and the unexplained lack of power in my legs, but other than that all was fine. I brought them back homewards and then started building my confidence on them. 

Early in 2016 my partner, Kate, and I were invited to a family gathering at an art exhibition. This is not unusual, there was an attractive card and warm message from an aunt but out of the card slipped a cutting. It was from Saga magazine – not my usual reading fare – and only a few hundred words long. It described the extraordinary story of Simon Lord, an avid cyclist who, not to be put off by the irritation of being confined to a wheelchair, had formed a charity to enable disabled people to attempt long cycle rides.
 
Like me, Simon has multiple sclerosis or MS for short. Now in his 50’s, he has a progressive form of the condition. I was diagnosed in my late twenties and have now just turned 40. I have a relapse-remitting form, where I get better between the relapses, but alas for the last five years not to where I once was. I have always been an active person: cricket, golf, squash, rock climbing, hill walking, I would do them all. Not so anymore, as my condition has crept up on me they have had to become part of my younger self, now left behind. Cycling was not on this list, but upon sober reflection I suspect it is only MS that has deprived me of a middle age swathed in lycra.
 
I live in York, a friendly place for cycling: I can cycle my kids to school without touching a road, I can cycle to work with barely 50 yards on one. So as my walking range has shrank inwards, my bike has become an essential mobility aid to get me around and about in York. Three years ago, after a much umming and arring I bought an electric town bike, which has been boon. I have been able to keep up good levels of regular exercise but not get exhausted by the typical headwind on the cycle home from work in the evening. But this kind of cycling is hardly a challenge; I was no longer bagging Scottish Munros or sprinting between wickets. So, after a few gentle prods from my ever supportive partner, I sent an email to the charity with nervous enquiry about an upcoming event based in Scarborough.
 
Trials of Yorkshire
 
Two months later I stood waiting outside Scarborough station. The staff at York Station and the Transpennine express service had helped me make the journey with my city electric bike, and had wished me well with slightly incredulous expressions. A battered old van turned up and, with some firm directions from a bolshie passenger, a gentleman in his prime called Tom helped me load my bike into the back. I clambered up into the front next to the mouthy incumbent, who was of course Simon Lord. It was all very friendly, and I was soon installed in a comfortable room on the University campus in Scarborough. Drinks and dinner followed and I was soon introduced to everyone, Simon’s delightful wife Kim, the effervescent Andy, the enigmatic ‘Jumper’ and the kind Lisa to name but a few. The hard stuff was for tomorrow.
 
We gathered early the next morning. I was terrified. The route for the day was a challenge. We were to ride to Dalby forest, where some of the group were to attempt the mountain bike trails in the forest and then home again. The entire day was daunting 80 miles. But this was to be no leap into the unknown. On the road each of the ‘Empowered’ riders had a support rider with them to monitor them throughout the day. In addition we had a lead rider, Richard, who had planned the route and laid out a trail of arrows and a sweeper rider, Andy, who would bring up the rear and deal with any mishaps. Supporting this ensemble were the vehicles; a support van which was heartily equipped with tea, coffee, lunches, bike kit, and even a portable toilet and a sweeper vehicle with a trailer so it could scoop up any riders and bikes in difficulty. In short, we were well covered. Clarke was my support rider, a young engineering student from Liverpool, second cousin to one of our ‘Empowered’ riders, Charlotte.
 
Nervous, and not quite on top form, I struggled on a sharp climb out of Scarborough and took a tumble into the verge. I was scooped up and ably encouraged to continue. This was a new level of challenge for me and I was very relieved to see the support van some 12 miles later. A chair, some tea and many friendly faces were waiting for me. The next climb was tough and many of the ‘Empowered’ riders boarded the support vehicles, Simon included, who had sped his way along to this point. Helped onto an electric bike and feet secured in, Simon had an unusual style and was not fond of stopping for anything, or anyone. We redeployed at the top of the hill and followed a delightful downhill forest track into Dalby and lunch.
 
The way back began with a tough long climb out of Dalby. Gamely I took the lead, pedalling for all I was worth. Pushing and panting I eventually had to call it a day two thirds of the way up. I was spent, exhausted and gasping for breath. I was tottering and struggling to balance. Not only that, I had burnt out the motor on my bike. A disaster? Far from it. This was my triumph of the weekend. I had exhausted myself and found my limits. This is the frustration of MS: the encroaching nature of the condition makes it difficult to know how far one can push oneself and the shock of abruptly finding those limits. Scooped up by the team, my bike and I were soon safely installed in the sweeper vehicle with Neil, Gillian and Simon’s friendly dog Poppy for company. Day complete.
 
The last day was a stunning ride on the Cinder trail from Scarborough to Robin Hoods Bay and back. I was riding a different bike on loan now and was determined to complete the ride. Alas the final climb on the return up to Ravenscar took its toll on me and after one fall too many I had to call it quits. Nonetheless it was a great day and my graceful dismounts throughout the day earned me a yellow jersey in the evening camaraderie. I had cycled over 50 miles over the 2 days – more than I had ever tried before – and found a way to get both exercise and freedom with the support and backup that I now need.
 
Empowered People is a remarkable charity. With a group of warm, talented and committed riders and supporters they are able to create the conditions where riders with a wide variety of challenges – MS, Parkinsons, accident victims, cancer survivors and more – are able to attempt cycling challenges that would otherwise be beyond them. It is a charity that focuses on what people can do, rather than what they can’t. Empowered People aim to help and advise people to source the right bike for their needs. In addition they organise challenging bike-rides, for which they need to acquire and maintain the essential support vehicles. Most importantly they need volunteers to support the rides, making tea, driving the cars, helping with the admin and, of course, riding with the team. I am enormously grateful to them, and to the warm and inspirational Simon in particular, for giving me this opportunity to know I can still attempt physical challenges that I thought were now beyond me. And thanks to Aunty Robin – I don’t think you realised what you were about to start.