This is imaginary correspondence between Byron the Bicyclist and his Dutch cousin Dirk de Fietser in Middenmeer, Noord Holland.
Dear Dirk.
My mom used to tell me bicycle stories about the Second World War. Not long after the occupation in 1940, you couldn’t buy new tires. The natural rubber that came from South America was used for war purposes.
When the bicycle tires wore out, you usually rode the steel rims. Some people substituted wood when the rubber wore out. Many roads were made from clay bricks, so it was bumpy.
Before the war, only doctors had cars. People got around on buses, horses, pulled by a horse, cycling or walking. For farm families, a bicycle was essential transportation.
What stories have you heard, Dirk?
Signed; Byron the Bicyclist.
Dear cousin Byron. Yes, I heard stories too. It was near the end of the war. My mom, your aunt, was a teenager when she was cycling with siblings. A young German soldier wanted to take the younger sister’s bicycle for himself. It still had decent tires.
It was not unusual for the Germans to take what they wanted.
My mom was not shy. She argued with him.
“You have taken too much already,” she told him. “You have already taken a farm wagon, a horse, food and other things. You are not having that bicycle!”
Arguing with the German soldier was a dangerous thing to do. But fortunately, the young soldier did not react violently. He told them his grandmother had been killed in Allied carpet bombing of his home city in Germany.
It wasn’t just the Dutch who lost what was dear to them.
The young soldier walked away without the bicycle.
On that day in Middenmeer, the German soldier had mercy. And your aunt learned that sometimes the other side had worse losses than horses, wagons or bicycles.
Signed; Dirk de Fietser
Bert Groenenberg has been cycling for over 60 years.
READ MORE: Share the Road: More low traffic bike riding options
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