Okay, it appears I'm not as big a wuss as I thought.
I dragged the bike down the two flights of stairs this morning with a huge sense of trepidation.
Jonella came over for a bit of moral support - and brought her new fandangled pump so that the tyres could be inflated to something more than the flat balloons that they were.
Being somebody with a bit of pride, I decided to try a few laps of the driveway first. Which went fine. Then I did a lap of the block and got home just as Jonella was pulling up.
"Didn't need to come and give you moral support, did I?"
"Nope, but I needed you to come and pump up the tyres for me."
Dag points for this photo being taken in the driveway - I sort of feel like you did when you were a little kid and your dad had finally taken off your training wheels.
Double dag points for my lilac bike hat (but it goes with my lilac swim cap - bought because nobody will steal it.)
After Jonella left I took the bike out of the Yarra bike path for about half an hour and covered seven or eight kilometers and it appears that riding a bike is just like riding a bike. Still scares the hell out of me. The Yarra trails are filled with people with little dogs that are just begging to be run over (not that I would ever run over a little dog, but with my bike handling skills...)
You don't forget how to ride a bike.
Now I just need a bit more confidence and all will be well.