When your bicycle is your best friend

©Barry Sandland/TIMB - Deliver messenger cyclist at a coffee shop in London

©Barry Sandland/TIMB – Bicycle messengers and coffee – essential combinations

“Something special happens between my bicycle and me, I always take my bike with me. It’s my best friend. She helps me make friends wherever I go – she makes me feel happy and relaxed. So much, I almost fall asleep while riding.”

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Hard core bikes are there for all ages

©Barry Sandland/TIMB - Young rider w her first road bike in Brussels, Belgium

©Barry Sandland/TIMB – Kids often get introduced to cycling on poor quality bikes. Finding something better can be everything.

“That is a British bike. It is really hard to find a road bike for children, but I found this one on Amazon. She is not doing the ride to Poland, but she is a good rider, already. She did 40 kilometres with a  bunch of us and she found it all too slow Continue reading

Social media and the family fix


©Barry Sandland/TIMB - Touring cyclists w his bike in Brussels

©Barry Sandland/TIMB – Closing the gap between distance and contact

“I post all my pictures online for my brothers and sisters to see. I get comments on that.. If I go quiet for a while, rarely do they holler, ‘Where are you?’ Sometimes I think, ‘Let’s see how long it will take them’, but usually my sister will respond. She asks if I am alive out there. But I have gone two or three weeks at the most without any contact. I found it surprising how hard it is to find free wi-fi here.”

That world tour where robberies keep interfering with the journey

©Barry Sandland/TIMB - North American touring cyclist w his bike in Brussels

©Barry Sandland/TIMB – Every bike tour starts with people telling you what could go wrong .. they just are not supposed to come true

“I am just riding, trying to see every country. I really don’t have a plan. Every country everywhere. I have riridden 18 months in North America. Mexico got in the way of going to South America. I got robbed, and guns and all that kind of stuff. The first time I tried to go through to Mexico, I crossed the border at south Texas and somebody came up alongside in a car and told me to pull over and I, like a dumb American, I said ‘No’. Like I could outrun them, or something. So they opened a door and Continue reading