I nervously wobbled and weaved my way onto Gongrentiyuchang road on my spanking new set of wheels. I hadn't been on a push-bike in about 20 years and it was probably a mistake to choose Beijing's rush-hour traffic for my big cycling comeback.
It had taken ages to choose my very own "flying pigeon". The variety in the bicycle shop was mind-boggling. There was every size, colour and make, from top-of-the-range multi-gear mountain bikes down to the more familiar black rattlers. I eventually settled for a mid-priced, grey number and treated myself to some extras; a shiny tinkling bell, a good lock and a basket. All for only £40.
Anxious not to waste any time on becoming a fully-fledged Beijinger, I bravely sent my better half home with the car and declared I was going to cycle. After all, I thought wryly, there is no good time to dice with death.
I was petrified as I joined the thousands of cyclists on one of Beijing's busiest city centre roads. I simply followed the throng and quickly got into a rhythm. The secret is everyone moves together like a massive wave. When the cyclist ahead turns one way or the other, everyone behind follows.
Beijingers are extremely innovative and you would be amazed at what can be transported on a humble bike. When we brought bedroom furniture a few months ago - a double bed, wardrobe, chest of drawers, locker, table and a chair - it was delivered to our apartment piled high on the back of a bicycle!
Everything from coal, to rubbish, to massive water containers is carted around the city on specially-adapted bikes and tricycles.
Unfortunately, after decades of domination, bicycles are now a threatened species in China. For more than 50 years millions of bicycles packed the dusty roads of this country's choking cities. The bicycle was the mainstay of transport and was associated with China as much as the Great Wall and the Panda.
China's fascination with the bicycle began at the turn of the century when two Americans pedalled from Constantinople to Beijing. Crowds in village after village greeted them, amazed at the sight of these strange "foreign horses".
But the bicycle did not start to make any real impact until the Communist revolution in 1949 when government subsidies were made available for people to buy them. Bicycle ownership really soared when China opened its economy in 1979.
Now huge changes are sweeping China as it goes through an economic revolution. While the bicycle was the main mode of transport in this vast country, the car is now taking over the roads, spewing exhaust smoke into cyclist's faces, pushing them into crowded lanes and hitting them with startling frequency. Of the 83,000 road fatalities in China last year, one third were cyclists.
Less than ten years ago, Beijingers hopped on a bike for 60 per cent of their journeys in the city. That figure is down to 40 per cent today. And it is even lower in other parts of China. In Shanghai, for example, it has dropped to 20 per cent.
There is still nearly twice as many bicycles in China as people in the US - 540 million. And there is an estimated 10 million bicycles in Beijing. That is nearly one for every person living here.
While bicycle ownership is in decline, car ownership has rocketed in China in the last decade. Today there is about 15 million cars, and this figure is expected to double in the next five years.
In contrast, bicycle production has been falling since 1995. Only one million were produced in 1999 compared to 30 million in the mid 1990s.
Five years ago, Beijing's streets were dominated with bicycles at rush hour. Today, cyclists have been banished to lanes at the edge of the city's main roadways while rush hour looks like it does in Dublin, with traffic lanes reduced to a stand still with cars, taxis and buses.
According to the owner of You An Men bicycle shop in central Beijing, business is not what it used to be. Bikes here start from as little as £20. "There are less people buying bikes and many shops have closed down. The market will never fall completely because there will always be use for the bicycle. But it is a shame to see the car taking over as it is."
On a family cycle to Tiananmen Square one Sunday morning recently, my husband's bicycle tyre burst. Instead of facing the prospect of wheeling his "foreign horse" three miles home, he was rescued by one of the mobile roadside bicycle repair units dotted along the main roads in Beijing.
The repairman, however, saw us westerners coming and knowing we were in no position to argue, charged £20 for a new tyre. We would nearly have gotten a new bike for that.
One of the charms of living in Beijing!
Miriamd@163bj.com