Coming Together

The kind folks at Ison distribution www.ison-distribution.com generously dropped me two of these lovely Genetic (Campag homage) seat post binder bolts yesterday (19 and 22mm just in case). Seizing the moment, I gently manipulated the frame’s ears, applied some composite friendly grease to bolt and post before introducing said components at their correct nm. Some folk still regard torque wrenches as a new-fangled luxury but in my book, lying prone in A&E while an overworked and undervalued nurse plucks shards from one’s buttocks is extremely undignified and totally unnecessary. Emblazoning my moniker along its top tube, fiddly bits are finished and with freshly herded goodies, my ferrous friend can resume secure hibernation until spring while I address pressing business matters and chart long, slippery outings aboard suitably dressed Ilpompino and Univega.

The deskilling debate has been hotly contested in many quarters with equally compelling contradiction. Traditionally this has referred to the labour market, primarily in relation to automation and manual labour. However, it appears increasingly prevalent in other spheres. I was somewhat gobsmacked to hear a police (traffic) officer remark that once someone has successfully passed their driving test; they are by default competent and capable users of the public highway (!) This contradicts widespread driving instructor/examiner conviction that such assessments are simply to ascertain someone is safe to be allowed to operate said vehicle(s) unaccompanied.

London’s seamier districts have always been awash with the unlicensed/uninsured and otherwise illegal drivers. However, toward the end of my twelve years spent navigating the capital on two-wheels, standards of PSV (Public Service Vehicles) operation had become obviously dilute to counteract declining numbers. This new breed of operator often substituted skill and courtesy with a deadly cocktail of elephantine ignorance and aggression toward smaller craft. I even recall the story of one, high on cocaine and deciding his passengers would benefit from a more scenic commute through suburban Kingston-Upon Thames (!)

Far from engaging “Victim” mode, I’m advocating for the re-establishment of “Road craft” whereby we have a collective responsibility to adopt a sense of greater humility, while continuously developing our skills and shedding this corrosive them/us tribalism. Aside from the (very real) fear of their driveway resembling a motorcycle salvage yard, my parents weren’t the least bit hysterical about a strange and irrational interest in middleweight motorcycles running in parallel with that of lightweight bicycles. Rather, they preferred to stress the importance of having a car licence-if for no other reason than to appreciate driver perspective and therefore, perceive potential hazards before they arose. Bottom line, I’m pro cycles but only have a pronounced allergy to stupid/ignorant/myopic humans, whether they be commanding car/van/bus/truck/horse/yak or indeed motor/cycle.

Against this backdrop, I am slightly perturbed by the notion of the UK’s sixteen year olds being able to drive unaccompanied on public roads, albeit behind the wheel of a heavily restricted vehicle. Now (before I’m mown down by an entourage of irate parents defending the civil liberties of their offspring) this has always been possible here under P class-trikes powered by engines no larger than 50cc. I can also appreciate why these micro-vehicles would seem preferable to little darlings terrorising commuter towns/estates astride sports mopeds, bereft of exhaust baffles (in the misguided notion such unleashes extra dobbins!) However, these do teach observation/road craft, contributing to an elevation of driver standards.

The Netherlands and to a lesser extent, Denmark are hailed as pinnacles of achievement when it comes to systems of integrated transport but in common with other social phenomenon, notions of being able to prune and re-pot in the UK is extremely naïve, failing to recognise the pronounced differences in public psyche.

Now, time I was charging some high power commuter lights and replenishing tired AAA cells, lest I fall foul of the fuzz, or worse still, become a statistic on tonight’s moonlit meander.