The Bike I Haven’t Bought: A Reflection on Money, Scarcity & Self-Trust
I fell in love with cycling in Valencia, Spain.
The roads.
The weekends.
The people.
In 2022, I cycled from Valencia to the UK. It took over a month. I crossed the Pyrenees. Somewhere in those mountains I met my partner. Somewhere in those mountains I also learnt to trust myself.
But I pushed the bike too hard. It wasn’t built for touring, it was a climber, not a pack mule. By the end of the journey, it was compromised.
I left it in my mum’s garage.
It’s still there.
Over the last four years, I’ve had the means to buy a new bike.
I haven’t.
I walk into bike shops and freeze.
I scroll online comparing models and specifications.
I close the tabs.
I do nothing.
Why?
A Previous Blog: How Do We Teach Financial Education?
In a previous post, I asked: How do we teach financial education to children?
I argued it isn’t just about transferring information. Two things matter deeply:
The learner’s past personal experiences.
The societal influences shaping their decisions.
So here I am, taking the first step I would recommend to any parent:
Reflect on your own financial education.
Through the lenses of experience and society.
This is mine.
Earliest Memories: Scarcity Without Language
When I was 10, I remember sneaking into my brother’s room and taking a £5 note from his drawer.
I didn’t want to spend it.
I just wanted more of it.
It wasn’t about the money itself. It was the feeling of having more.
Around the same time, I wanted a portable DVD player. I found one in the Argos catalogue. I had enough money saved.
My mum said it was a waste of money.
She was right.
But what’s more interesting is this: I wouldn’t let myself buy it either.
Not because of logic.
Because of fear.
Fear of going back to zero.
Fear of not having enough.
Fear of something ending.
The money wasn’t going into investments. I didn’t need an emergency fund. It just sat in a drawer. But the number mattered.
Why?
Time Is Money
A few years later in Hong Kong, I walked into my sister’s room and she had the air conditioning on full blast.
I was furious.
I didn’t know how much electricity cost. I had no concept of what was reasonable.
But I knew it was “bad.”
At the same time, my dad was always working. He left before we woke up and came home after we slept. I saw a man trade his time for money.
So when I saw money being “wasted,” I saw wasted time.
Lesson learned:
Time is money.
Don’t waste either.
But somewhere inside that lesson was something else: anxiety.
Boarding School & Hong Kong
Less than 8% of UK students attend private school.
I did.
At school, I remember:
The Nintendo Game Boy Advance everyone seemed to have.
The latest cricket bats.
Unlimited tuck money on Wednesdays.
I remember my bat being laughed at.
I remember seeing a £1 “maximum” next to my name.
I remember knowing I would never get the Nintendo.
In Hong Kong, I had $100 (£10) for the week and weekend. Some friends had $500 (£50).
Nothing in Hong Kong is cheap.
There were weekends I didn’t follow friends into malls or cinemas because I knew I couldn’t spend like they could. Sometimes I told my family I was meeting friends, but I went somewhere alone.
What was that feeling?
Shame?
Embarrassment?
Pride?
Isolation?
I never wanted more.
I walked everywhere to save transport money. I still do.
I wanted to work, to earn, but felt paralysed not knowing where to start.
That word again.
Paralysed.
Parents & The Money Silence
There was no money talk at home.
I remember asking how much my dad earned. My mum didn’t know.
Even as a child, that felt strange.
My dad worked constantly. My mum came from a large Irish family where the goal wasn’t climbing the ladder, it was making sure there was always enough.
My dad immigrated from Bolivia, became an engineer, and worked relentlessly in Hong Kong.
Immigrant work ethic.
Security.
Enough.
What did I absorb?
Work hard.
Save.
Don’t waste.
Don’t rely on others.
Make sure there’s always enough.
Present Day: The Same Pattern
Today, I still struggle to spend.
On big things.
Small things.
Even food.
My partner has taught me so much about nourishment, buying local, valuing quality, thinking about the energy you put into your body.
Yet when I walk into a supermarket, my first thought is still:
“How can I spend less?”
Not:
“How can I nourish myself?”
That scarcity script still runs.
When it comes to big purchases, like the bike, I freeze.
I analyse.
Compare.
Delay.
Avoid.
It’s not about affordability.
It’s about permission.
The Value I Miss
A few years ago at Winter Wonderland, my siblings wanted to go on a £5 ride.
I didn’t want to spend it.
Not because I couldn’t.
Because it felt like a waste.
What I missed was the value of shared experience.
Contrast that with Hong Kong in 2023.
I decided money wouldn’t be a barrier.
I said yes.
To food.
To bars.
To experiences.
It was one of the best times of my life.
I don’t remember what I spent.
I remember how it felt.
And I don’t “miss” the money.
Generational Context
I’m a millennial.
We earn less relative to costs than our parents did. Many rely on the “Bank of Mum and Dad”, on average around £55,000 toward a first home.
Most of my peers received help.
I resist it.
Why?
Because somewhere inside me is a belief:
I must do it myself.
And another belief:
The generation before had it easier.
Even writing that, I can hear the victim mindset creeping in.
But awareness is the first step.
The Richest Man in Babylon & Bitcoin
When I read The Richest Man in Babylon, something clicked.
Save 10%.
Invest it.
Pay yourself first.
I realised I was already doing it.
Since 2020, I’ve been dollar-cost averaging £10 a week into Bitcoin. I invest into ISAs. I save consistently.
So what more do I need to do?
Maybe nothing.
Maybe the lesson now isn’t how to save.
Maybe it’s how to spend.
How to enjoy.
How to trust that the future will be okay.
The Bike
The bike isn’t just a bike.
It represents:
Permission
Self-trust
Movement
Joy
Identity
I crossed mountains once.
Why can’t I walk into a bike shop?
Because the fear of “not enough” is louder than the memory of what I’m capable of.
But I’m starting to see something
Every time I have spent intentionally, on experiences, on connection, I’ve never regretted it.
The money fades.
The memory remains.
So maybe the real financial education lesson for me now is this:
Save wisely.
Invest consistently.
And then live.
Because what is more important than the present moment?
If this resonates with you. Please reach out. I am happy to have a chat.
