Our apartment came with a shedful of bikes. I hadn't ridden one in decades, but I'd been told you never lose the skill, so I hopped on one- the very first evening- a lady's bike with only the basic gears- and was off and away, flying like a bird. That bike you can see, propped up against a tree in the picture of the wayside shrine- that's mine.
In Flanders pedestrians and cyclists own the road- with cars and other motor traffic having to fit in around them. Though it can be annoying to have to pull up sharply for jay-walkers and free spirited cyclists- who don't pay attention to motor traffic because they know they're the bosses- I believe this is the right way round. The meek shall inherit the earth. Because it's so flat, cycling in Flanders is a joy. I didn't do as much of it as I'd have liked because we had so much else on the schedule, but I suppose I must have covered something like ten miles in a couple of days. Frankly, I didn't think I had it in me.