Different Perspectives, Wider Horizons

Autumn has arrived with a vengeance, damp and dewy by sunrise and dark come 7pm. A veritable clotheshorse by my own admission, I’ve cycling attire for pretty much every occasion but hadn’t bargained on how quickly daylight would succumb to dusk and therefore darkness.  This led me to conclude that accessories are just as significant as high power lighting systems when it comes to being acknowledged by drivers. Donning day glow de feet gloves, reflective helmet band and vest along with dynamo and assorted blinkeys have proved more effective than clusters of bike mounted lighting more befitting a Mods’ scooter.

Talk of the devil and with “Mod” chic once more en vogue, it was ironic that Joshua and I should find us at the dvlc scooter rally. Mirroring cycling club meets, these are nothing like you’ll see at the movies. Iconic machines of every description from unrestored series II Lambretta to contemporary Piaggio passed in majestic convoy or sat patiently in the sidings while owners congregated for a convivial chinwag.  I nearly bought a restored LD150 back in 1992 for £450. My late grandfather had two, an LD and later a Li 125. Painstakingly executed custom airbrushed artwork has long been a sub cultural norm, often exceeding the two-stroke’s book price but to date, this Vespa T5 is the only example I’ve seen with a cycling theme.  

They bid me come out how could I say no, they said meet us at eight, round at our place you know…A recent business trip took me to the Midlands and indeed, a barbecue on one evening. As both coals and conversation warmed, a guest happened to let slip that he’d worked the line at Peugeot, welding door sections for nigh on a decade before seizing escape in the form of early redundancy and higher education. The significance of this being that I am also researching a book abut the lives of those who’d worked in the car industry and the impact of its collapse upon the host communities. The media tends only to focus upon assembly line “operatives” in the context of tragedy-suicide, bankruptcy or indeed both.

Reductionist theories suggesting the semi-skilled either fell into the mire or simply became taxi drivers are at best ludicrously simplistic. As this guest illustrates, for some it will have been the opportunity to pursue infinitely wider horizons, others may have “owed nothing to no-one” and taken retirement, some may have moved to other assembly line work or retrained… And the conversation changed as the sun went down... 

Sharing an affinity for cycling, talk quickly evolved along the lines of gain/gear ratios, the joy of fixed and his late 1980s/early 90s Nigel Dean road bike. Clearly equipped with the ability to join metal together, I recommended since business was relatively slow, he seek out a week’s hands on “take home what you built” course still run by some of the old (and not so) masters.  

Roast Dawes Galaxy wasn’t on the menu that evening but this rich yellow example is an innovative take on the mummification technique to draw attention from a bike’s true value. Sure, more learned types with ready access to a biro would tell from the calibre of components, chrome plastics, Brooks saddle and dynamo that it was valuable but from a distance and coupled with the old-fashioned quill stem, the disguise certainly works, encouraging nay’r do wells to look for easier pickings such as this mtb inspired commuter.  

Accidents of any kind always raise the issue of cyclists and third party insurance. In principle I am in favour, not through any endearment to the insurance industry but simply for self-preservation. Such policies offered through affiliation to the Cyclists Touring Club (CTC) and London Cycling Campaign will certainly help in the context of legal costs, injury/accident or indeed being sued by another party. Such also reaffirms  cyclists are traffic with the same entitlements to the public highway.

More than can be said of the red 3-series BMW that indulged in a very painful tango with me along Streatham high rd on the 16^th December 2001. Not that the local constabulary were remotely interested, or compassionate for that matter. Cuts, bruises and bent mech/hanger the only real casualties.     

No one can doubt the excitement and dare we say feel-good factor induced by Britain’s Olympic successes and most notably, the Paralympics. However, it would be exceedingly naïve to believe this has induced a longer- term sea change in social attitudes towards disability and opportunities for disabled people per se, not just athletes.

The present administration has been basking in the paralympian triumphs as if they were a product of Whitehall, while introducing sweeping welfare reforms, which will have the effect of muting future sporting success, in turn threatening both the social model of disability and the very underpinnings of meritocracy.  

There is a lot of evidence to suggest the contemporary political elite is something of a homogenous group with their own broadly similar backgrounds and ideals. Moving away from the philosophy of inhuman institutional care was one of the more positive contributions. However, “Care in the community”  based not upon philosophical, but economic reasoning. Aside from breeding grounds for unspeakable cruelty and experimentation, asylums and long stay hospitals were prohibitively expensive to run.

It doesn’t take a business degree to realise a minister’s developer friend could make a small fortune from buying the land and converting said buildings into flats. Sure, we’re twenty odd years on from there but rather akin to “care in the community” which dumped people in one bed flats, often in the more deprived areas with nominal skilled support, vulnerable people are still seen as a problem- expected to forgo access to opportunities and basic everyday living we take for granted. Accident, medical condition and indeed age all have the potential to leave us dependant and with severe, life changing impairments.

Life & Lightweight Bicycles

I’m going to begin on a philosophical note germinated while bombing through deserted lanes on the Univega the other morning. Battling a curious and slightly unforgiving headwind while rejoicing in the whispering of the trees, thoughts sped through my consciousness at an equally fluid rate. The most profound of which were less concerned with the chapters of my book than metaphors for life. Sometimes situations mirror the experience of piloting 350lb middleweight motorcycles. Unlike a sub 20lb pared to the essentials bicycle, course cannot be altered by deft flick of the handlebars and you simply have to follow the line you’ve set. None is more appropriate when describing the process of writing. A certain element of blind “This must and will happen” faith provides the underpinnings while words are lain sequentially and as a process-rather akin to watching a skilled coach builder/panel beater construct, form and shape car bodywork.

Recent months have seen a sense of gradual and positive progression as the sections evolve and form a tangible entity. Yes, they remain in a raw, untreated state (rather akin to my derriere’ bedding in a traditional leather saddle) but nonetheless the structure continues to evolve into a readily refineable state. My late father used to remark that being too critical was the enemy of first drafts. Editing could come later and while the chapter or broader manuscript had been standing a while-afterall, these projects are century rides, not ten-mile sprint ‘till you’re lungs burst and legs scream with lactic acid” affairs.  Against this backdrop, it will come as little surprise that I have only caught the highlights of Britain’s commendable and heartening Olympic cycling successes.

This has also seen a (possibly temporary) resumption that fame/recognition lies with talent, ability and moreover considerable effort rather than simple celebrity or my old nemesis, nepotism. Sure, personality plays as part, as does luck but observation suggests that wider, global influences aside; the UK has been sunk by decades of competitive individualism presiding so disproportionately over co-operative communities. Arguments rage as to whether we have become de-skilled or if broadly similar skills are being cultivated within new industries. A coachbuilder once said to me that computer programming was relatively straightforward for someone coming from that, apprentice trained background. Intelligent children are being consigned to failure simply because they do not fit an extremely narrow academic artery. “University” has in many respects become the new national service, something that is a rite of passage. Indeed, I have heard many fathers refer to their children as being “On leave from Uni”.

Education and intelligence are often two very different things. A degree, or indeed postgraduate qualification is of little consequence if it has been learned by rote and the underpinnings of such theories lost upon the recipients.  I long ago left behind the notion of idolising people, simply because it becomes a recipe for disappointment. However, I would like to spend some time with David Bailey. Not because of his successes and influence as a photographer/image maker/artist but his embodiment of the meritocratic philosophy and intolerance for fools. Olympic security staff appears to fall into the latter category, prohibiting any camera with a detachable lens, supposedly to prevent unofficial press photographers sneaking in. My subversive streak chuckles at he thought of arriving with a cold war beauty.

This leads me nicely to WD40’s new specialist range. These shouldn’t be misconstrued as cycling specific but a fast acting de-greaser; penetrative spray and two weights of PTFE lube lend themselves handsomely to cycling duties. A clever articulated smart straw collar replaces that iconic red applicator that invariably made a bid for freedom beneath refrigerators, dog kennels and other inaccessible regions, allowing very precise, localised treatments whether you’re stripping drivetrain gunge or trying to persuade that lovely fluted seatpost free.

The banshee howl seemingly purged from the Univega’s 986 cantilevers had returned and try, as I might wouldn’t subside, forcing their substitution in favour of these Raleigh branded Alhonga. Uncannily similar to Tektro Onyx using an M system pattern straddle wire, set up proved a little tricky to start with but with a quick jot of PTFE spray on the balance screws and minute tweaks of the cable tension everything aligned nicely.

Modulation and feel are a little softer than the previous configuration but still reassuringly prompt and moreover, squeak free, although I might see what impact upgrading the pads has on proceedings. These BBB Dual ride combi have replaced the otherwise charming ATAC derived Time and are another impressive pattern design.

Comparison with Shimano’s venerable AP530 is inevitable, while the build quality is top notch, bolstered by ready spares availability from cartridge bearings and Cro-moly axles through to the stainless steel plate means they present a viable long-term investment. My one minor gripe concerns the tension adjuster isn’t the most conveniently tweaked with those 3mm hex keys common to most multi tools. Support to the feet is equally impressive, whether clipping along in cleats or scooting past lines of stationary/slow-moving traffic, where a quick dab-down can avert disaster. 

Returning to a lightweight theme, a cautionary tale concerning thin walled tubing and electroplating. This 70’s Carlton came through Maldon Shot blasting & Powder Coating’s doors for a blast and chrome effect powder transformation. Closer inspection and a quick tickling from the aqua blast revealed it had been previously re-plated and the residual acids had nibbled through the steel in key, structural areas.

Then came two Dawes. A 70’s bottle green, Birmingham built 531 Galaxy and this curiously fetching 500 Cro-moly training frame, somewhat reminiscent of my own winter build from the same period, save for mine ironically sported chrome uni-crown fork blades. Noteworthy on several grounds, the galaxy was something of an institution along with Claud Butler (Holdsworthy) Dalesman amongst the club/ touring fraternities. This particular model was being refinished in a “Brentwood” orange powder finish significant in so much as the livery in question had to be imported directly from the US…Right, back to the book.