Tag Archive | Bicycle

Well I’ll Go to the Foot of the Stairs

Yesterday, after a rather dull afternoon on duty, I went out to a meal with a group of my Organisation friends.  Amongst them was one of the most senior uniformed members in the area.  Now, normally I get on very well with this person (who I will christen TopBoss, because the people above her don’t count…), but everything I have been hearing has suggested that she has been getting in the way of us taking the bikes and making them better.

Needless to say, bikes came up at the meal (as they do…), but, unexpectedly, it was TopBoss who brought them up.  By saying that she was getting us some shiny new equipment.  To be precise, a set of miniaturised medical gas bottles and a lightweight, compact defibrillator that’ll actually fit in the panniers properly. This is kit we’ve wanted for a long time, as it makes our lives so much easier on duty.  It’s only enough for one pair of bikes, but that’s a lot better than the nothing we expected to get.

It turns out, despite what we’ve thought, TopBoss is very much in favour of the bikes, but normally has too many other things she needs to buy to spare any money on a set of bikes that rarely get used.  Which is really good (and a great relief).

Of cause, this means we now have only one person to blame for the state of the bikes, but he’s someone we can’t do anything about until the restructuring happens.

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Cycle Response Run

We’re standing by outside the recruitment post.  Our bikes are attracting a lot of attention: a push bike with Ambulance blazoned across it is an unusual sight.

“992, 992 from Control.”

I turn away from the kids I’ve been explaining the bikes to.  “Go ahead Control.”

“Respond under emergency conditions to romeo-one-five.  Collapsed child.”

I peer at my map, matching up R15 to where I currently am.  Bloody hell, we’re the other side the city.  I turn to see my partner already mounting up.  To the kids: “Sorry guys, got to go.”  I jump on to my bike, kick the stand away, and push off.

My partner pulls off ahead, and I slip in behind him.  I was good, and left my bike in a low gear when I pulled up.  We accelerate away, shifting up the gears until we’re racing along the road at a respectable rate.

It’s dusk, the perfect time for visibility.  What’s left of the sunlight makes our fluorescent jackets glow, while it’s dark enough for the reflective strips shine in every light.  Nobody should fail to see us as we race past.

We’re in luck.  Most of the route is a closed road. We have the tarmac to ourselves.  We make good time, getting half way to the far side of the event to the other before we know it.

We’re getting to the busy part now.  Slowing down a little, we weave between clumps of people, earning a few glares as we take a turn faster than perhaps people would like.  We shift down, cutting out speed to safely navigate around the dawdling obstacles.

The crowd thickens.  The spaces between the groups narrow.  We start to lose speed, stuck behind people wandering along, not expecting two cyclists to try to barge their way through.

On goes my siren.  They sound a bit weird, too high-pitched, but they certainly grab people’s attention.  People turn and stare.  A path opens up in the crowd, and we regain a little of our lost momentum.

One group turn and stare.  We approach, weaving left and right, trying to find a way past.  My siren is still going full blast, and it’s joined by my partner’s electronic buzzer.  The harsh sound cuts across the sounds of the crowd, making people wince, but still they stand, staring at us like rabbits in our headlights.

We’ve slowed to a crawl, nowhere to go.  Frantically we wave at them. “Make a path!”

Comprehension dawns.  They dawdle out of our way, and we pull off again.  Finally, a clear path opens, the crowd finally getting the hint that the loud, horrible noise means ‘we’re in a hurry, get out of the way’, not ‘everyone stop and stare’.

We career around the last few corners, the road finally clear again. We almost reach a sprint as we close in on our destination. I’ve been listening in to the radio as much as I can, in the hope that we get stood down, or someone got their first. No such luck.

We skid to a halt at the mouth of the road, screeching disc brakes announcing our presence better than any siren. The road is short.  If anyone was collapsed there, we’d be able to see them.

My partner circles up and down the road, scouting the area, while I hold a slightly breathless conversation on the radio, confirming the location of the call. Control tries to call back the original caller, while we lean up against our bikes, catching our breath.

Eventually they stand us down. Apparently our ‘collapse’ had got back up again when his parent’s didn’t give him all the fuss he wanted.  Of cause, they hadn’t thought to stand us down.

We took the slow route back to the first aid post…

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