Worn Cleats, Humble Pie & Food For Thought

Thundering along memory lane to my mid teens, I arrived at a friend's house to show off my newly built Raleigh conversion. His father, (a salesman by trade) well versed in turning on the charm for those he disliked answered the door. Spotting the fixed transmission he cheerfully quipped “Bloody dangerous, fixed- had one when I was your age, regularly threatened to come out from underneath me.”. He’d made other observations but that has always stuck with me. Forward twenty years and a correspondingly colossal mileage without such an achievement on my cycling CV, I was chasing the blues away aboard my beloved Ilpompino.....

Carving into corners and swooping into the bends, the long and positively deserted lanes had become my personal playground. Alone in my smug little bubble, I found myself sniggering at his misfortune…"What a load of old Botox, I’ve never had a fixed come from underneath me in all these years and all the miles…even with extreme provocation”.

Well, the gods of worn shoe cleats and erratic road surfacing must’ve taken dim views of this self congratulatory behaviour. A long descent, touching 30mph and without warning my right cleat disengages! A spate of panic ensued as I tried to regain control by holding off against the transmission, redistributing my weight and groping in vain for the front brake. Hurtling past a school for the well heeled (or should that be cleated), was probably not the best time to unleash a torrent of expletives!

Mortified mothers in SUVs, proud grandparents and an unimpressed head teacher all gazed in wide wonder at the Lycra clad reprobate hurtling before them. Concluding their lesson in humility, the gods handed me back control of my bike, bodily functions and command of the English Language just in time to avoid a traffic bollard.

Hauling the brake lever fully home, I stopped short of further indignity long enough to re-engage my foot for the final and somewhat cautious two miles to my front door.

Suffice to say the cleats were replaced within five minutes of locking the bike away.

The obvious moral here is routine inspection of shoe cleats but it provides other food for thought. Sometimes the law is just and there to defend us. Here in the UK, bikes with fixed wheels are required to have a single, front brake-the transmission being recognised as a rear (we all know, holding off against the cranks slows with much greater control and road feedback-especially in poor weather).

I’m not turning against anyone who chooses to ride brakeless outside of a velodrome and I’m very aware that in the US, the law varies from state to state. As my encounter demonstrates, worn cleats/riding without respect for the unexpected can result in an accident just as readily as riding sans brakes. However, one fine day when you're filtering through the traffic, that mother about to give birth to twenty-one children could readily step accross your path and into the arms of a merciless lawyer.....

Next: Far From The Madding Crowd....

Romancing The Circuit

So, dispatchin’s cool again just as it was twenty years ago when the first wave of wannabes started riding the city streets on mountain bikes shod with slick tyres and messenger bags slung over their shoulders. Back in the day, it seemed to be a right of passage for post qualified journalists and a fair few arts students to serve on the London circuit. I recall a friendly acquaintance remarking there was nothing remotely glamorous about riding ten hours a day (often soaked to the skin), having coke cans and abuse hurled by youths in tuned Fords, the city grime that permeates every fibre of your clothing and (amongst the ladies) tender, bruised breasts where the radio has repeatedly made contact. Then there’s the unscrupulous firms, no sick or holiday pay, no unions (although things are improving thanks to organised messenger groups), the constant threat of bike theft and the very real risk of becoming a statistic.

Certain sections of the media continue to perpetuate the glamour myth, failing to make the distinction between this “outlaw” romanticism- being paid to ride your bike and the stark reality of riding your bike to earn a living. The lean days when you barely get a job or can’t work due to a tumble with the tarmac/ illness are seldom considered. In the words of my late father (who looked after motorcycle factory riders during the 1960s) “Doesn’t matter how good a rider you/think you are, you always come off”.



The flexibility suits those with other business/interests or folks with a healthy contempt for the nine-to-five. I can fully appreciate how this is so easily romanticised. Perhaps the numbers of civilian riders astride track bikes dressed in retro merino wool jerseys, ¾ knickers complete with messenger bags should be regarded as the sincerest form of flattery (although I regularly encounter hapless fashion victims wind milling around the capital on ridiculously tall gears). The circuit attracts people from all walks of life and it’s nothing like the movies.. I’ve never met a messenger without a story or two. My personal favourite being a courier reunited with his steed, the thief saying he was returning it as he couldn’t ride it(!)-fixers were far less prevalent twenty odd years ago.


Whilst the elite and the seasoned might carve gracefully through the urban sprawl like athletic salmon aboard Bianchi Pistas, Specialized Langsters and a wealth of more exotic mounts; others, dressed in baggy tracksuits and trainers are earning minimum wage on beater mountain bikes with expiring transmissions.

The glory days of £450 a week may be a distant memory, yet the recent postal dispute saw some earning almost double and there’s no shortages of folk seduced by the image and perceived lifestyle. Whether they flatter or frustrate, the wannabes look set to stay….

Next: Worn shoe cleats and the perils of ignoring one's elders

The Phases of Fixation

As evidenced within Fixed Gear Gallery, riding fixed is an increasingly global phenomenon, doubtless inspired by the internet’s ability to mobilise and unite like minded people. Here in the UK, riding fixed has never been so popular, not since the 1950s and early 1960s when car ownership was less prevalent and the now comparatively silent Velodromes heaved with spectators. Enthusiasts of the day, emerging from post war austerity could seldom afford a bike specifically for track duties and out of this was born a unique breed of machine known as Road/Path. These were a precision hybrid of full on track mount and road bike used for everything from club runs, time trials and as a daily driver, so needed large clearances to accommodate mudguards(fenders) and stout tyres. Ridden to the weekend track meets, they were quickly pared to the essentials and raced competitively. Sadly, like the once bustling Velodromes, these bikes are now very rare, although some frame builders will oblige with a bespoke frameset of this genre.

Fixed has since followed the tradition and influence of continental neighbours, relegated to training duties through the winter months and used as a means of developing strength what the French term “Souplesse”. Being restricted to a single gear and learning to spin high cadences were considered essential ingredients for success in the road racing season. Bikes were battle weary race mounts, stripped of all unnecessary components and relegated to training duties. This was my introduction to fixed as a teenager some twenty years ago. I bought a hard used 501 framed Raleigh training bike and rebuilt it using money saved from a paper round. I ran it winter in and winter out, night after night with a like minded classmate where we’d talk about our dreams, trying to emulate our cycling idols on the climbs, oh and philosophising- (that’s a euphemism for talking about girls in case you were wondering).

Three winters and periodic indoor trainer slavery resulted in a phenomenal mileage and noticeable chink of daylight where the head and down tubes met. Uneconomic to repair, I cannibalised the components, built a geared winter trainer around a new frame. Some fourteen years and countless miles later, I happened upon On One’s Ilpompino- in essence a cyclo cross bike with track ends that embodied the spirit of the road/path tradition. I was smitten again… After a couple of years and some serious temptation in the form of an IRO Rob Roy (the cost and hassle of importing one from the States shelved that purchase) saw me acquire an Ilpompino with 120mm rear spacing. This has undergone a steady and continual process of evolution. Presently sans guards, it sports 38mm wide rubber, offering comfort and confidence along the winding, poorly surfaced lanes which constitute the local infrastructure.

One of the fabled road path framesets has registered on my radar and I’m hoping to take delivery of said frameset very soon. Meanwhile I’ve been choosing the colour scheme and ringing round some powder coating firms for prices. This is to be a comparatively minimalist build, used as a sunny days/ time trial steed but more of this when it unfolds.



Thanks to their popularity on the messenger circuit in recent years, fixers are spoilt for choice in terms not only of complete, competent and affordable off-the-peg packages (most manufacturers have a fixer in their range but consequently components have become far more robust). Pure track hubs are super smooth but they’re not designed to repel dirt and ingress thrown up by unsympathetic city streets. Even budget hubs enjoy reasonably good seals and will stand up to the rigors of daily riding. The same goes for headsets and bottom brackets which are notoriously in the line of fire.

Messenger culture has become de-rigur and brought with it a new practicality to cycling, clothes which are stylish alternatives to Lycra and trade jerseys. I’ve nothing against looking like a refugee from the Tour De France but for more general riding I prefer something a little less conspicuous. It has also brought a new and exciting sub-culture of racing and grass roots participation.

Events for your diary: 22-24th August 2008
London’s Calling introduces the capital’s only three day Courier led bicycle racing extravaganza. An open event, meeting at the foundry in EC1 welcoming messengers and civilians alike. The original event, held in 2007 was a pre-cursor to the messenger championships in Dublin. Friday the 22nd is all about registration, top cat and an art show, Saturday the 23rd being the main day of racing sponsored by Tour De Ville, followed by an after-party. Sunday the 23rd sees the messenger Olympics, followed by Roller Plazza-high octane roller racing at the Imbibe bar situated at 173 Blackfriars Rd, Southwark, London SE1 (nearest train/tube station Waterloo). All proceeds go to the London Courier Emergency Fund.

Those seeking a more regular fix need look no further than Brick Lane where bicycle polo matches are held every Sunday at 1pm (location between brick lane and Shadwell St London E2).
Meanwhile, those in Birmingham, oft referred to as the second city might like to know there’s a regular meet every Thursday night at 6.30pm by St Philips Cathedral-so if you fancy a beer and a blast drop by.

Michael Stenning