I recently did a Q&A with BikeWise Australia who asked, “What’s your favourite bike bling?”

This question was a chance for me to reflect on the bike riding accessories – fashionable and otherwise – that help keep me safe when I’m out and about on my rides.

My ground zero piece of ‘bike bling’ was a high-visibility safety flag. I initially balked at the idea of using this for the simple reason that I was already slightly self- conscious about standing out as an adult trike rider. I feared that sporting a lurid orange safety flag on my already child-like vehicle was further infantilising.

Safety is important but I also had reservations about getting stabilising wheels added to my trike for the same reason. Perhaps it’s internalised ablism, but I don’t think I’m alone in feeling self conscious about standing out.

And while it’s true that I do get the odd jeer from mocking teens or inebriated adults about my bike, I’ve settled in to the necessity of my safety items. In fact, I’ve turned safety orange into somewhat of a fashion statement.

I now have quite a fetching orange and yellow reflective safety flag which has attracted admiring comments from the odd cyclist on the road. The flag accessorises nicely with the fluorescent racing stripes of my orange and grey Adidas jacket.

Next I bought orange reflective sunglasses. But I really jumped the shark when I purchased orange riding gloves that also came with matching fluro orange socks. Thankfully I lost the gloves, but my unhealthy obsession with safety orange continues.

I have other safety accessories that are even more important.

Because of their uneven centre of gravity, trikes can be prone to tipping. This caused my some nasty falls when I was first learning to ride.

It wasn’t until I had to be transported home in an ambulance after being tailgated by a driver who forced me to turn too fast and capsize that I admitted to myself that stabilising wheels were a necessity.

I have spoken to other people with CP interested in riding who expressed similar concerns to mine about riding what they perceived as a ‘kid’s bike’.

Many people with physical disability experience being stared at or worse because of our appearance or the way we move through the world, so this self-consciousness is not to be unexpected.

I have never been overly self conscious about my appearance. I mostly only think about it if I catch my own reflection moving past a mirror or shop window.

But the interesting fact is that in the act of riding, instead of standing out, the reverse happens and my disability disappears.

I can go much faster than anybody on two legs. Suddenly I have to slow down to keep pace with my friends, not the other way around.

When I walk past kids in the street it’s common for them to ask parents, “why does that man walk like that?” But when I ride past them they just say ‘Cool bike!’”

Freedom Wheels, who make custom bike mods for people with disability, designed the stabilisers for my bike which keep me upright. Lovingly made by a retired engineer in consultation with an OT, this solution has kept me safe on the road ever since.

I have still had the odd spill – the common denominators are turning at speed, and turning on a gradient – at a certain point the force of gravity wins out.

I also installed spiked mountain bike pedals which help keep my feet mounted in place as I ride. These are a great tip for anyone who has issues with keeping their feet on the pedals, and doesn’t want the restriction of a closed horse shoe-style pedal.

I also love my quad lock which mounts my phone to my handlebars so I can navigate. As someone with no road sense, I’ve learnt to navigate the world with the help of apps like City Mapper, which plot out three versions of my route (quiet, regular and fast) via cycleways and shared paths.

This is how my trike gained its moniker as a TARDIS. I punch in the coordinates and bend time and space to get where I need to go – often without actually knowing where ‘there’ is.

My favourite bike mod is probably my Pedel Cell, a device which uses the kinetic energy generated by my front wheel to keep my phone charged. This ensures I always have enough charge to navigate directions, as well enjoy good music while I ride.

As a teen, the main reason I wanted to learn to drive was so I could cruise around blasting gothic beach music by bands like the Pixies and Jesus and Mary Chain.

Now I live out my teenage fantasy every day, hooning round the streets lost in the music of my phone.

Adulthood is overrated. What’s wrong with looking like a kid?