Winter '95 - the Strike, French Style

In my very first winter living in France I was exposed to the full power of what the French trade unions can do. Somewhere in mid December the first snowflakes fell to coincide with the the strike that everyone had been anticipating.

I had no idea how bad it could get.

As I was based in the centre of Paris and lived in Puteaux it was impossible for me to get to work. People took to hitch-hiking, roller-blading, cycling even the bateaux mouches was mobilised to cope with estranged commuters.

Fortunately I had an extra source of income in a French telemarketing company where I was doing research for Texas Instruments. With the money I earned I bought an 18 speed Specialized Hard Rock All-Terrain Bike with Shimano Alivio gears, Grip shifters, SR telescopic front fork. I even splurged for an expensive U-lock to protect my investment. GoSport wanted me to wait a week before shortening my handlebars for use in traffic but I opted to risk using it 'as it was' unfortunately for several motorists with damaged rear-view mirrors.

All too proud of my shiny new bike I went to work on it. It had been snowing regularly for two weeks and people were making alternative plans to get to work. Bike sales were up 30% for the period and a lot of folks traveled with in-line skates. Man, were they fast and nimble!

I loved riding that bike through Paris. It seemed to me that there were no rules against push-bikes or even motorbikes riding on the path. I crossed the Parvis de La Défense, continued on to the avenue de Grand Armée, then onto the Champs Elysées, gleefully committing myself to corners and kerb stones, trusting my telescopic forks to absorb the shocks and standing up when flying off the kerbs to absorb the impact of the rear wheel with my legs, I swung a left onto rue Royale between La Place de la Concorde and the Jardin de Tuilières, turned right at Madeleine and then it was the home straight on Boulevarde des Capucines and bouncing onto the Place de l'Opéra where I worked. It was great but it took about 2 hours to get from Puteaux to Opéra. The other teachers and students were well impressed with my bike with the extra large knobbly tyres.

Mr. Nortern, the manager of the Opéra school greatly appreciated the effort I had made to come into work, so much so in fact he placed me in the Boulogne-Billancourt school under the impression it was more accessible than Opéra. I was grateful for this favour but a little disappointed that I wouldn't be doing the Opéra run again. The next morning I had an early morning student at 8am. I set off at 6am. It was snowing heavily. The shortest route to the Boulogne school was to cross the Bois du Boulogne. I wore a thick woollen jumper, jeans and a pair of waxed 'Geronimo' Doc Martens for the journey. The Cateye computer mounted on the handlebars near the stem was barely visible in the snow but registered a fairly steady 18kmph. The thick layer of fresh snow meant there was plenty of grip.