The Lesson I Half Remembered
Before we dive into Umbraco's safety nets, let me share a cycling lesson.
Some of my earliest weekends were spent cycling with my dad and siblings, taking short local routes. He taught us the basics and, after a crash that left us with scraped knees and nettles, gave us advice on braking. I don't recall the specific lesson, but I remember using the rear brake first, which on my childhood bike meant using the right-hand brake lever.
Later, he signed us up for Cycling Proficiency. We learned hand signals and how to share the road. By my teens, I was cycling 24 miles round-trip to my Saturday job. Then a car, a career, and years off the bike followed.
My partner is a dedicated cyclist who believes the correct number of bikes to own is n + 1. When we met, he promised to help me rediscover my love for cycling. Following a back injury, the physio suggested cycling as gentle rehabilitation, so my partner set up his spare bike as a turbo trainer (because, of course, he had a spare). But I found static exercise incredibly boring, so we started cycling outdoors instead.
His spare bike was too big, the routes were hilly, and my confidence was low. Eventually, I bought an e-bike, which let me cycle the steep hills without hindering my recovery.
Something still felt wrong. Every time I needed to stop, my instinct was to use the right-hand brake lever first, but it no longer matched what the bike or the moment needed.
Eventually, I realised why: I was following a childhood rule I'd half-remembered.
That forgotten principle had survived in muscle memory long after its meaning had faded. Twenty years later, it had quietly become risky because braking is not a fixed rule; it depends on the bike, the surface, and the situation.
