Farewell my three-wheeled friend

Kate Chapman - 29 Jul 15

We’ve had a rocky relationship you and I.

Although at just over five years, it’s outlasted many of my others. But let’s not get off on the wrong foot – or wheel – here.

You’ve seen us through two children. From car seat, to pram to push chair – you’ve been there every step of the way. You’ve had milk and juice tipped all over you, biscuits, chocolate and ice-cream smeared onto your frame and squashed into your seat, and let’s be honest there’s been a few leaky nappies along the way too. And maybe a few occasions where I’ve run your tyres through something unsavory – the bird poo at the Norfolk nature reserve springs to mind.

Your shopping basket has been overloaded more times than I care to remember, but you’ve saved my arms from having to carry all those groceries back from the shops over the years. Although I’ve never really forgiven you for coming without individual handles – rather than a bar – that I could have hooked my hand /change bag over.

There’s been so many good times; you were there for those first tentative walks out, trips to the supermarket and family excursions. You helped rock my babies to sleep in those early months when nothing else seemed to work and naps weren’t always so easy to come by.

But, like I said, it’s not all been plain-sailing – there were days when you were nothing short of a giant three-wheeled albatross hanging round my neck.

Remember when we first met and it used to take me hours to attach the car seat or pram basket to your base? And all the times you kept getting stuck in shop doorways because your back wheels are just too darn wide? And how about all the occasions when we struggled over kerbs, cobbles, sand and up steep hills?

And let’s not talk about the steps. Those darn flights of stairs when it took two of us to lug you up – and then back down again.

To this day I’m still haunted by the hours I spent out in the garden just trying to attach the pump to your wheels so I could re-inflate them after we’d been running on empty for too long.

Nevertheless you’ve been part of the family for what feels like forever, an extension of me. Unlike your double seated cousin. I couldn’t get along with him – he was too big, un-steerable and I couldn’t be bothered to get the instructions out every time I needed to collapse or set him up again. If I remember rightly he was a bit dangerous too, especially if you left him unattended, prone to tipping up if his balance was interfered with.

Thank goodness my big girl was always so happy and eager to walk.

And then there was the day you decided you’d had enough; you weren’t going to comply and fold down anymore – there you stayed in your upright position, like a regimental soldier.

In a way I was pleased you were stuck up, rather than down – for although I could no longer get you into the boot of the car, at least we could still use you for the walk to school.

However, now my little man would rather walk than ride (well most of the time) and come September he’ll be able to making his way to nursery on foot (fingers crossed).

This summer for the first time since having children we’re going on holiday without a push chair filling up the boot – I’ll be able to pack what I like, possibly more than one pair of shoes if I’m lucky!

But now you’re finally surplus to requirements, I think I might miss you a little bit after all. Whenever I leave the house without you, I find myself forgetting what to do with my arms. For so long they’ve been resolutely gripped to you, forging my way along the path ahead.

On more than one occasion I’ve found myself gently rocking the shopping trolley as I stand in the supermarket checkout line waiting to pay, while passers-by flash each other looks as if to say ‘avoid that one, she’s barking’.

Flying solo without your reassuring harnesses holding in my children in scares me a little, as now I have two possible runaways to contend with. They’re growing so fast, their journeys just beginning.

Yours has come to an end – and not a particularly pleasant one, stood in the garage gathering cobwebs.

I just wanted to say, on their behalf – thanks for the rides.

Kate Chapman

Kate Chapman is a freelance journalist writing for a variety of national and regional newspapers and magazines. Her work has appeared in Woman's Weekly, Closer, Sunday Mirror, Sunday Express, Countryside, Lincolnshire Life and Farmers Weekly. Married to a Lincolnshire farmer, she is mum to Nancy (7) and Peter (6). Her hobbies include running, baking and chocolate (only does the first so she can have the second).

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