With several hundred miles under my derrière, the Spa cycles Aire saddle is finally moulding to my shape, almost to the stage where we can churn away agreeably for several hours in succession. This particular feat of endurance not only boasts a very personal outcome but is strangely satisfying too. Admittedly on some levels, resurrecting the Dia Tech Gran Compe and slipping it between the Ilpompino’s post cradle was a cosmetic exercise since it compliments the fixer’s slightly faded handlebar wrap.
This also proved a timely opportunity to dress them in proofide, nourishing the hide while locking the elements out. Suspicion suggests the saddles were separated at birth-both have an untreated surface and began assuming my profile at 350 miles…I’m one of those riders puncturing infrequently for months and miles on end before being hit with a glut.
Perhaps the Ilpompino was indulging in some attention seeking behaviour but both its thorn-resistant Kenda had inexplicably, not to mention irreparably sheared around the valve stem. Mercifully, while on another mission involving 4 stroke lawn mowers, I uncovered a couple hiding away in unusual places…
Sticking with seating, I toyed with putting an old Turbo that had been doing something close to nothing on ebay but Uncle Benny let slip he wanted something more forgiving to his posterior than the OEM Velo gracing his road bike.
A more befitting 90mm Woodman stem with 17degree rise and a seven speed freewheel (yes, a screw-on!) followed suit; the latter a very fetching nickel plated Sun Race replacing an old Shimano with ailing pawl springs. Talk of the devil, he’s been here all week, replacing my twenty-five year old heating system before winter arrived-it was literally running on goodwill and held together with corrosion!
Talking of the devil, changing seasons-not heating engineers, these Lezyne micro/macro drive lights arrived on my desk as a timely reminder perhaps of summer’s swansong and autumn’s advance. True to Lezyne law, they look and perform beautifully.
Non- replaceable li-on cells were a little disappointing but their power to size ratio and intelligent sensors that kick down to conserve power are definite plusses. Diminutive dimensions won’t cramp fixers’ clean lines, there’s sufficient oomph for out of town commutes and as dynamo companions on Audax all-nighters.
Clutter-phobes are arguably best served by the croquet shaped micro drives that charge directly from the USB but both employ sophisticated diodes, optics and beautifully machined alloy bodies. Lumens; rather akin to camera megapixels sells lights and might earn bragging rights amongst the chain gang but lens quality is what makes ‘em useable.
Both are adequate for navigating poorly lit roads at around 20mph and in the macro’s context at least, oncoming traffic pays heed to around 400 metres on a clear night. There will always be exceptions to this of course-the most obvious being those who recklessly endanger the lives of others by texting, or indeed watching pornography on their smart phones.
Pre season fleet fettling also meant replacing the Univega’s final outer brake cable run-it’d been cut too short previously and thus inducing some unwelcome binding. The rear hoopl also needed a quick tweak on the wheel builder’s jig but we’re talking £7.50 nuisance value rather than samba dancing. More disconcerting was the cassette’s reluctance to budge, even using Pedro’s vise whip and a long-handled Shimano pattern tool.
A firm lunge finally won the day, freeing the lock-ring whose threads turned out to be profoundly bereft of grease. I can only assume this is the result of harsh solvent cleansers rather than sloppy installation on my part. Nonetheless, I popped the cluster in a redundant ice cream container and administered a liberal blast of WD40 Specialist Fast Acting Degreaser. Residual lube and congealed gunge receded almost immediately, leaving a rather artistic imprint behind. Alas, its solvent component also gobbled the receptacle!
Decay/abandonment, urban and otherwise has long been a passion of mine, hence I popped over to an exhibition of photography taken inside an old; dare we say notorious institution that has been earmarked for housing since its closure in 1997. While admiring the haunting imagery, often taken at very long exposures, I noted a local publisher of children’s fiction looking to hire a freelance illustrator. Not my trade but akin to the old asylum, my hard drive plays host to a series of long forgotten stories so I’ve made some enquiries…Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
Even allowing for the technological trickle-down, £135 for a system this powerful is remarkable. More surprising are the diminutive dimensions of both head unit and seat-post mounted battery (although if you were feeling flush and yearned for eight-hour 
Winter also brings wet, smelly feet. Not everyone likes overshoes or indeed the 
The other avenue I’m (cautiously) keen to pursue in an artistic/semi commercial context is fine art/model photography…Traditionally this has proved a minefield thanks to the falling prices of high quality camera equipment attracting the unfavourable “Guy With Camera” who has no other objective than to letch at women for his own personal and deeply sordid gratification. Stories concerning this particularly unsavoury genre of male are legend-the most poignant example being of a model looking to expand her fashion portfolio. Having answered an advert, she arrived at the address (A dingy back street flat) to discover she was expected to assume a wealth of “Glamour” poses (Despite expressing in no uncertain terms she was only prepared to do fully clothed catalogue assignments). When she refused to pose on all fours wearing nothing but a G-string, 
Unfortunately, semi/professionals with proper credentials, location and a female