As far back as I can remember, this bicycle has been close to me.
According to my uncle, its original owner bought it at a second-hand store during one of his trips to Italy.
Before, in Cuba, traveling to other countries was reserved for only a few. He was one of those few, working for the Merchant Marine.
When he arrived in Italy, as a Cuban, he didn’t know what to do, but he wanted to bring gifts for the family.
When he entered the store, not knowing much about what he was doing, he saw it and fell in love with this bicycle.
I’ve always wondered who its original owner might have been. Did they imagine their bicycle would end up in the Caribbean? Even better, what would their reaction be to know it still rolls as if it were new?
Though I think I’ll never answer those questions.
The truth is that this warrior has been in the family for 30 years now (I’m 25)
Since its arrival, it hasn’t stopped.
When my uncle brought it, it was one of the most modern bikes in Cuba.
In those years on the island, Chinese bicycles were the most common. They were quite simple bikes made to fulfill their main task: moving Cubans.
The Italian bike caught attention for its height and especially for the Shimano gear system it had.
My uncle had no trouble navigating the hills of our city or getting to the beach, unlike those who used the Chinese bicycles, which didn’t have gears.
As expected, more than once someone tried to steal, swap, or buy it. There are many stories about this (but that will be for another post)
As a loyal cyclist and lover of his Italian bike, he never let it go.
But time passed, and against that, no one can compete.
After being diagnosed with a joint disease, my uncle gifted it to me.
Although the diagnosis was very hard for everyone, his gift came at the right moment.
During COVID time.
Everything came to a halt, but as a medical student, I had to support health efforts, and we didn’t stop.
Living far from my university, public transport was a disaster. Arriving on time every morning was an impossible task, and there was no other option.
That’s when our old companion came back and saved me.
During that period, I must have covered nearly a thousand kilometers.
Not only was it my transportation to university, but I also became the messenger for my family and sometimes even a taxi.
And there it is, enduring the Cuban streets.
Recently, we changed the tires (the previous ones decided to retire), and we took the opportunity to give it some maintenance.
Today I’m not using it, but during a cleaning, I saw it lying at the back of the room and decided to take it out to relive old feelings.
I wouldn’t sell it for anything in the world.
When I mounted it, memories of my rides through the empty city flooded my mind. Going to pick up my partner to go to work together. Maintaining it with my uncle when I was a child.
Many memories on just two wheels.
Two wheels that have traversed Havana so many times that they must already know it well.
Bicycles today weigh much less. They have superior finishes. The gear and brake systems have evolved, making it a bit easier to navigate the city.
Even so, this lady has fought alongside two generations of cyclists, and here she is, and I believe she will continue.
Maybe, from where you’re reading, changing bicycles seems normal, or maybe you just rent one.
In Cuba, the bicycle was the only means of transportation that anyone could access.
In every home, there’s a bicycle with much more history than mine.
For us, they are not just vehicles; they are part of the family.
The difficulties of our country, our reality, have led us to this.
Still, the freedom that pedaling gives you is a feeling everyone should experience.
Well... enough of the romanticism...
I’m going to put the bike away 😉
But before that, I want to ask you... do you have any bike stories worth sharing? Any memories?
I’d love to hear from you in the comments!
[dahpilot]
All the images in the post are mine.