Three Wheels on My Wagon

2012 has been something of a moderate year, characterised by peaks and troughs, minor tussles and triumphs in equal proportion. The UK has the Olympics but more significantly, a Tour DE France champion in the guise of Bradley Wiggins. I’ve made no secret of the fact most of my heroes hail from earlier decades, some reputations more notorious than others but with the notable exception of Cadel Evans, few among the pro peleton have captured my imagination so I was heartened by Wiggins’ success and to discover myself warming to him.  

Labelled a “Mod” seemingly by virtue of pronounced sideburns, it wasn’t long before some within the broadsheet press found a darker side courtesy of his late father, a former professional who apparently lost everything and died in sinister circumstances.

There are exceptions to every rule but I’m fairly convinced that today’s pros are more grounded, dare I say self-aware than their predecessors so such cataclysmic falls from grace are now comparatively rare. Racing pretensions very much the stuff of history, I like to observe from the sidelines, report as appropriate and where commissioned to do so.

Cycling as always been central to my identity but words and pictures has long been my career passion. “Someone might question your opinions but they should never be able to challenge your facts” was a phrase uttered by my lecturer in print journalism some twenty odd years ago and one that always resonates with me, whenever my fingers grace the keyboard.

Journalistic licence often becomes the stuff of popular mythology and none more obvious than in the context of Tom Simpson’s demise at Mont Ventoux in July 1967. Reputedly Simpson’s final words were “Put me back on my bike” but these were a fabrication, invented retrospectively by Sid Saltmarsh, a journalist covering the Tour for the Sun newspaper.

 As I intimated at the close of my last entry, I’ve been having a blast on Edinburgh bicycle co-operative's Revolution Audax these past few weeks. Its one of those bikes that offers plenty of smiles per mile with a persona closely mirroring that of a knowing club elder-well mannered and reliable on the one hand, yet extremely playful, requiring little effort or excuse to break into a spirited canter.

I even hooked ours up to the shops’ now sadly defunct cargo trailer and fifteen kilos of kit to see if I could persuade it to misbehave- the answer being a resounding no. Single-wheel trailers are most suited to solos with short chainstays and although a longer turning circle might dissuade some, the low-slung genres are in my view, a better option than bulging panniers for weekend touring. 

  

An unapologetic homage to the mighty Bob Yak, the cargo had some notable advantages. Half the price, fitting kit was less vulnerable to fatigue and the chassis fabricated from plain gauge High tensile, rather than 4130 Cro-moly steel meaning it should prove easier to repair in the unlikely event of failure since, contrary to popular mythology, the latter responds badly to MIG welding.

I’ve owned both and am yet to find another shop brand or pattern example that comes close in terms of handling and moreover durability.

Discontinued because of spiralling production cots and exchange rates, it will be interesting to see if recent contractions within the Chinese economy will see a reintroduction in the longer term. My one frustration common to both concerns the deployment of sixteen inch hoops.

Quality was adequate and small wheels maintain an appropriately low centre of gravity but the availability of decent  tarmac friendly rubber (aside from Schwalbe’s charming Kojak slick) seems as prevalent as Lord Lucan or those proverbial rocking horse droppings. Virtual rummaging has unearthed this 16x1.95 Kenda that I’m hoping will counteract the OEM knobbly’s slightly skittish persona when navigating wet asphalt, while simultaneously reducing rolling resistance into the bargain. Who knows, it might even inspire a new and unlikely branch of racing. 

Returning to the subject of chain gangs, I’ve noticed an annoying and potentially dangerous trend for swooping past my bars with only millimetres to spare. Now my ego’ won’t disintegrate upon copping an eyeful of pristine cleats but this and the related practice of swinging straight into my path without acknowledgement is elephantine ignorance personified.

I should establish none concerned (*photograph for illustrative purposes only*) are known to me in a professional or indeed social context…I’m just staggered by the lack of road etiquette/phenomenal arrogance displayed by those who should arguably know better. Concluding on a philosophical note, I guess we all have our lesson(s) to learn…

One most of us grasp very early on is that winter is harsh on components, especially chains. Enter KMC Z8XRB, a heavy duty, heat treated offering dressed in a heavyweight-galvanised finish. Arguably a decent quality nickel plating coupled with proper little n’ often lubrication keeps tarnish academic but the less polished plating might have a beneficial effect upon durability in a wider, everyday context.

Aside from the “missing link” expiring within he first few pedal strokes, things look promising despite the wet, humid conditions that have defined the past few weeks. 1250 miles and a chain tool reading of 0.6 seems par for the course so I’ll be monitoring its progress closely.



Perched Pragmatically

Had an email chat with Ryton on Dunsmore based Lee Cooper regarding a few projects and decided to solicit his advice concerning the Holdsworth’s damaged bottom bracket shell. Its cause remains a mystery but will involve cutting out the original and replacing it with something of equivalent, period sensitive quality. Then of course, “Ninja blue” will need fresh livery. On various occasions I’ve explored the notion of something more radical- bottle bosses, my name emblazoned along the down tube in tasteful italics etc but this is unnecessary and structurally invasive indulgence-not that I could be accused of being a purist given its overtly contemporary flavour. The obvious plan of action is to leave the torchmanship to Lee and the paint to Maldon Shot blasting & Powder Coating.

Speaking of which, Graham and the boys managed to slip the tune up stand and carrier through last week, giving them a much cheerier red rebirth. If you want something done, give it to busy folk. Embracing this mantra on an a pragmatic level has seen me take the cash flow demon by the horns and doing some seasonal shift work in local factories. This isn’t the most obvious source of inspiration and I’d be the first to admit coming home feeling pretty exhausted physically but having left my brain very much in neutral, find creativity positively flows for a couple of hours hence. Breaks between the days have also seen a spike in focus/productivity words and pictures-wise.  So long as I’ve reached the first, preferably second draft stage during the week, weekends can prove incredibly fertile ground creatively-principally because my mind is relaxed

Serendipity is another of my buzzwords and this came in the form of a cycle event. I’d decided to leave the motorway and do a quick sweep by the supermarket when a procession of riders, some clearly seasoned others distinctly green whizzed, or in some cases wheezed past. These became less bunched with time and I swapped shopping bags for CSC camera with 50-180mm lens, clicking away from a safe distance so as not to attract unwelcome attraction. Further investigation suggested it was in aid of little haven’s children’s hospice-a worthwhile cause if ever there was one.

So many organisations need support in some way or other, although I always fear public spiritedness is being exploited to the advantage of local and moreover central government who may cut existing funding or otherwise shirk their obligations. 

Leather has rocketed back into vogue in recent years and the economics of supply and demand are beginning to swing in the consumer’s favour as more brands enter the market. Harrogate touring maestros Spa cycles have done precisely this, launching their own range of saddles and luggage. The Aire (pictured) is a narrow, racing design made from untreated Australian cowhide that measures 148mm at its widest point, thus music to my sit bones. Untreated finishes aren’t simply an exercise in cost cutting either, although will require more frequent feeding to keep it supple and the elements firmly at bay-most notably during the bedding in period, which is around the 600 mile (800 km) mark.

Obviously, this can be accelerated with judicious application of neats foot oil to the underside, coupled with weekly treatments of proofide to the top (dropping to one every month/six weeks having completed the quoted milestone so as not to encourage premature wear). Mirror polished electroplated Cro-moly rails add to the timeless feel and dare I say the overall 590g girth. Then again at £45, complete with tensioning spanner to keep the hide in best fettle, its unbelievably good value for money.  Now, in amongst this excitement I’ve bathroom and central heating boiler refits to project manage along with road testing this rather fetching Audax bike so you’ll have to excuse me …

  

Within my grasp

A mysterious spoke breakage on the Univega’s front hoop had both myself and Alan at Riverside cycles scratching our heads- I hadn’t plunged headlong into any holes, ruts or similar surface imperfection, evidenced by the fact it was still running perfectly true. However, he slotted in a replacement at a moment’s notice before going on a week’s holidays. Elsewhere, that Cinelli Caleido handlebar wrap has delighted on so many levels. Something of a curiosity, performance is on par with the ultra sophisticated polymer types, yet much easier to live with-spillages of energy drinks and similar beverages are easily chased away with a soft bike brush dipped in a bucket of mild sudsy water, without fear of stripping space age coatings, thus ruining all- weather grip.

Application is a little more involved than traditional corks though and the every so slightly rubberised leatherette material benefits from being left near controlled surfaces of heat, while you strip the existing coverings and gungy residue from the bars. This technique makes it all the more maulable for classic, swooping overlap. There’s plenty of it mind, even the Univega’s prodigious WTB drops allowed for some bespoke double ups for the last word in shock absorption, while powerful adhesives prevent your artistry unravelling as you reach for the finishing strips.

By the same token, it seems very tolerant of being rewound-at least during installation so perfectionists needn’t fret. Suffice to say, I’ve notched up fifty miles plus in bare hands, without so much as a hint of tingling, let alone more pronounced discomfort.

On the subject of mitts came the promise some beautifully crafted classics from Dromati. Evocative of those 60’s heroes powering up the dolomites on Peugeot PX10s, it came as pleasant surprise to discover they’re actually handcrafted in Surrey, a region in the UK more famous for its stockbrokers, rather than craftspeople.

Devoid of Ulnar defending blobs, or similar contemporary sensibilities they’re comprised of lightly padded cognac brown Nappa hide palms laced to knitted crochet backs- beautifully executed and priced to suit. Sure you could have the look for considerably less-cheaper materials, manufactured in southern Asia but this propagates so many unwelcome notions, demeaning traditional skills and legitimising sweatshop practices within developing countries.

After a brief interlude and some obvious calming of my scorched arms, the damp and dreary summer has reinstated itself, presenting excellent test conditions-especially for chain lubes and maintenance sprays, while washing local council hopefuls to my doorstep.

On the one hand, I come from a highly politicised linage and am pleased to see sustained interest in politics at a localised grass-roots level but on the other, their lack of underlying direction proved irksome and I had chapters to compose and other work to bid for. Another steady gig or two would be very welcome at the moment. I’ve been going through bouts of chronic block and phenomenal productivity at the moment, especially with the book and sometimes, good discipline is confused with staring at a screen.

During the down periods, I’ve been visiting locally derelict sites (within forty miles) and drawing inspiration, trying not to attract attention or be confused with metal thieves-a perennial problem around industrial compounds and a far cry from the days when children played in the bombed out shells of post war Britain’s inner cities. Such ruins were often credited with launching the careers of photography’s “black circle” during the 1960s- the most famous being David Bailey. While genuinely in awe of his creativity, hold a greater affinity with Terrance Donovan.

Both grew up just a few miles from each other (Newham and Tower Hamlets respectively) but sadly, while Donovan enjoyed measurable commercial recognition, he suffered from depression and consequently took his own life. Depression, rather akin to dyslexia is one of those phrases oft over used, little understood and heavily stigmatised. Granted, we all feel low from time to time and I’ve no problem with this in so long as it’s a passing phase, proving the catalyst for more positive outputs/outpourings. However, the genuine article is an entirely different thing.

To sunnier topics now and the new season’s lighting systems are slowly but surely coming on stream. Moore large have sent me some of their aptly named and super cheerful Torch blinkies, while Raleigh passed these rechargeable Moon comet, which enjoy a comprehensive range of very powerful settings. For the piers de resistance, Magicshine have dropped in their MJ880 2000 lumen and an even more powerful My Tiny Sun. Both are beautifully made and whose names imply Chinese heritage, although the latter is actually lovingly crafted in Germany. Now without further ado, I’m off to charge up and test these beauties and probably contemplate my own place in the universe.

Shoot n' Squeal

With bike week and the diamond jubilee celebrations in full swing, it was perhaps ironic that the Univega’s cantilever mounting bolt should eject while I was negotiating a tricky junction. Instinct took hold and having leaned the bike against a road sign, I sprinted back to the intersection, eyes scouring the dimpled asphalt for these small, vital components. Mission accomplished and with functioning stoppers, we continued our backwater meander but then foul of the dreaded squeal. Cleaning the rims and purging glaze from the pads using Green Oils legendary citrus based bike wash and in the latter context, emery paper certainly helped but didn’t silence the banshee howl. Net effect, I resorted to replacing said pads with another set of the cheap but oh so cheerful Jagwire to coincide with some very interesting EVA based bar wrap, superseding the six month old Arundel Gecko grip that was looking tired through no fault of its own, repeatedly disturbed to facilitate cable/component replacement.

Joshua has suddenly rediscovered his solo, choosing to spend several hours’ on subsequent days cruising a combination of metalled road and green lane. He’s also been sharing in my love of derelict/abandoned places (virtually) while Uncle Benny muted a desire to cruise down to the former Soviet block with me to capture some of the disused airfields, military bases and similar wonderments that proliferate that corridor down to Russia. During those years when the iron curtain was drawn fully closed, my Uncle spent a disproportionate amount of time in Warsaw with a friend acquiring second world war military equip’ before returning with a wife!

Aside from a strange and some would argue, irrational love of MZ motorcycles- tough, reliable and extremely cheap (an ETZ251 in good order could be snapped up for £50 back in 1989) I’ll freely admit to a lifelong fascination with what lives behind heavily armoured doors, gates and houses in clearings…particularly if it had been deserted for any period.

Photojournalism depicting the uneasy transition from communism-its bleak alienation, anomie and substance misuse accentuated this desire to nip through the freshly drawn curtain. As we speak, I am gently badgering relatives in Warsaw for contacts, leads and indeed somewhere to stay for a week, few days even to capture such before nature reclaims, or worse still, someone decides to demolish it.  Meanwhile back in the blast cabinet Trevor and the boys are in the throws of transforming the 4130 expedition rack and bargain basement tune-up stand. I hadn’t realised quite how inexpensively it had been constructed until I came to dismantling…

Certain sections looked to bolted but were in fact bolted and welded in situ, the nylon seatstay hook apparently secured via 4mm Allen screws were in fact secured from the inside courtesy of two vertically positioned 10mm bolts… However, with some old school ingenuity and Joshua’s help it was ready for the blaster in a matter of minutes. After some deliberation, I’ve decided on a cheery Coca Cola red powder coat. Coupled with some name decals, it’ll make mine easy to spot at race meets…

Speaking of scrap metal “Any old Iron!” will be a call widely familiar to anyone in the UK. It originates from this profession who drive around collecting old metal goods people no longer want-washing machines, ironing boards, copper storage tanks etc from people’s doorsteps. Perhaps unsurprisingly, these have become increasingly prevalent in the recent economic climate along with a pronounced escalation in bike theft. It would seem along with the usual problem of bicycles being good currency for drugs and similar activities, metal thieves who have traditionally stripped abandoned pubs such as this one of lead, copper pipe, radiators and other valuables have taken to stealing bicycles en mass and selling them on for literally nothing as scrap-adding further insult to injury! 

Bad enough that the rightful owner should be deprived of something they doubtless love and cherish but to think of it being added to a pile of indiscriminate junk has me howling with outrage.  Unfortunately and for a time at least I can see this intensifying since, depending on which school of economics you subscribe to, we are only thirty per cent through the decline and with those sorts of statistics, I can see a generation who will prove not only long term unemployed but unemployable, with tragic consequences for the individuals, their families and the wider society. Trade is slow for freelancers like myself too but rather than fall into that hole of self-pity, I’ll partake of some Fentiman’s ginger beer (Belching improves creativity…) and put some serious hours into the book these coming days. 

 

Beating a Retreat

Sometimes, enforced leave's the best way to remain focused and moreover productive. Bang up to date with immediate deadlines and other planned works, I took a few days away from the keyboard to photograph petty women against gritty backdrops of urban and coastal decay. Had to do a fair bit of bobby dodging since police and private security firms are very prone to overzealous and dare I say, aggressive misinterpretation of anti terror legislation. On the flip side, there are those who do not help themselves, gaining access to buildings under the misconception that trespass is as serious as things will get, when in fact breaking and entering or indeed, criminal damage is more probable.

Sites of medical/industrial origin present other hazards including asbestos, pigeon faeces, biological/chemical pollution. Depending on their location, squatting and all that it attracts can prove a very dangerous cocktail. Some years ago, I happened upon an abandoned house in one of London’s most deprived districts. A trail of scorched silver foil blowing about this particular tenement was a clear indicator of what awaited me as I zipped through an adjoining alley leading to what remained of the back door…A couple, probably in their early twenties were desperately chasing another hit of heroin-it was to be their last. I took three shots through a 50-200mm lens before slipping into the high rd.  

Having prepped the Univega prior my departure, I noted a few fresh chips in its somewhat delicate flamboyant red enamel. Mercifully, a quick scout around Superdrug uncovered the perfect touch up stick-yep; nail varnish to the rest of us. Aside from pillar-box or Coca Cola, first-rate retouching of reds, especially those of the metallic persuasion is notoriously difficult. This particular brand dries in sixty seconds but I’ve applied two or three thin coats before allowing them to cure overnight.

On the subject of refinishing, the otherwise tough satin powder coat finish adorning the beefy expedition rack is beginning to tire slightly where panniers and other luggage sit so I’m toying with having it blasted clean and given a colour-coordinated rebirth. The other alternative is a phenomenally resilient industrial treatment known as plasti-coat. Applied in the same fashion as powder its commonly used on wrought ironwork and similar ferrous metals left in the most challenging environments. Given its notorious difficult removal –even with extensive chemical assistance, the faintest trace on threaded sections spells disaster so you’d never apply it to a frameset… Were I to take this route, I’d also ask if they’d mind passing this simple tune up stand through at the same time since the existing paint is firmly in dip n’ hope territory.

In the meantime, Rory at Upgrade has been kind enough to send me a bundle of goodies including Lezyne’s power rack elite-a beautifully executed TIG welded aluminium affair complete with 25 kilo maximum payload, this rather fetching, long handled pedal rod and Microshift Sti brifters. The latter are nine, as opposed to eight-speed, short reach examples heralding the Ultegra bar cons’ retirement and more or less completing the tubby tourer’s road biased, yet trail friendly evolution. Despite sporting an extra click, these index perfectly with eight while rivalling Tiagra in performance stakes. Elsewhere, a garage gremlin appears to have gobbled all my open ended ten millimetre wrenches-the sort perfect for nipping old school cantilever brake pads snug. Thankfully, much rummaging unearthed one of those awful but will- do- in- a- pinch giveaway types.

Product testing forms a major part of my work and these days it’s genuinely rare to find bad ones per se. Sure the odd howler, or rogue model crops up from time to time, sometimes with hilarious consequences. Most recently and falling into the latter camp was this otherwise super cheery house branded waterproof day pannier, ideally suited to quick release, post mounted racks. Swooping through the deserted backwaters with only a gentle breeze, moonlight and furtive scurrying emanating from the hedgerows for company, I was compiling a mental list of priorities when a blood-curdling rip as the pannier’s mounting hardware parted company with the weatherproof fabric tore through my serenity!

A modest cargo consisting of armoured cable lock, tyre levers, patch kit, spare tube, multi tool, pump, Co2 inflator, cable ties and compact camera hardly constitutes overloading but thankfully, the humble plastic ties were up to the job of lashing everything together, allowing me to complete the ride, albeit with one ear attune to further, untimely demise.

Naturally, I reported this to the distributor who are determining whether its an isolated fluke or symptomatic of a sub standard batch. Then came a trio of track pumps, which Joshua helpfully proclaimed looked like detonators, doubtless intensifying neighbourly suspicion. Lest I forget to seat a 700x23 tyre and tube properly, resulting in an ear shattering din otherwise those poor darlings will scatter beneath dining room tables, some hands on heads, others with the home office on speed dial…

Meandering through the monsoon: Helmet cams, Secret compounds & portable detonators…

Rain has remained a consistent metaphor for my somewhat downbeat mood these past few weeks but maybe it’s just a question of skies being darkest before dawn. A publisher popped up from behind the proverbial parapet keen for the book project to take off, subject to contact. Heartening though this is, congratulatory backslapping does not a book write. Sat under the shade of Uncle Benny’s Veranda, guzzling diesel strength coffee, we happened upon a light bulb cash-flow solving moment. I have a long held fascination for pattern parts, specifically electronics and am seriously looking into importing some for commercial purposes…speaking of electricals, I’ve been mightily impressed by the original Go-Pro Hero HD helmet cam.

Arguably superseded by its MKII sibling, build and image quality remain top notch, especially in 1280x960 mode thanks to a wide-angle f2.8 lens. Documentary filmmaking prowess aside, its had a very positive effect upon driver etiquette. All but the most ignorant/unlicensed/uninsured (and therefore untouchable) overtook and approached with greater courtesy. That said, it’s widely acknowledged that in tense inner city neighbourhoods, violent conflict can be sparked simply by a motor/cyclist making greater progress through stationary traffic, let alone potentially criminal driver behaviours being recorded. Generally user-friendly, it requires several trial runs for intuitive function and consequently, I lost some potentially hilarious footage on those initial outings. Similarly, it’s a little hefty worn atop a lightweight road lid longer than ninety minutes, so I’m eager to get hold of the recently launched handlebar mount.

Our celebrity culture isn’t a new phenomenon, people see a camera and either call the authorities, or loose all inhibitions. Two teenagers approaching me couldn’t have drawn more attention to themselves if they’d sported colossal white beards and red tunics. Even those who wouldn’t so much as manage a grunt couldn’t resist a breezy holler and one chap even indulged in a bit of ad-hoc business promotion (didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d got the weather and therefore, soundproof backing in situ!).

Extensive praying to the god of blowouts brought some lovely goodies. These Panaracer Ribmo arrived for the Univega courtesy of their UK importer (www.zyro.co.uk). Three hundred miles or so through flooded roads has left a very positive impression, although their profiles are closer to 1.6 rather than 1.75 inches as denoted on their sidewalls. This hasn’t negatively affected performance, especially cantering across metalled road but called for tyre levers when persuading their folding versions aboard common or garden cross country mtb rims. In the wake of this latest wave of terrorist paranoia, perhaps this beautifully executed Lezyne micro floor drive pump could be mistaken for a plastics explosives detonator when cadging a lift on the bottle bosses and perhaps best stowed away in the panniers. Subversive humour aside, its mightily efficient to a genuine 120psi, which is sufficient for all bar top-flight tubulars. However, care must be taken to avoid accidentally triggering the bleed valve when disconnecting the hose.

A fresh set of fetching Fibrax gear cables have brought renewed vigour to the tubby tourer’s shifting and I’ve resuscitated its cheap but oh so cheerful blinky whose switch had succumbed to the recent Bollywood monsoon conditions. Dismantled and left to dry at room temperature, I administered a slathering of Vaseline to the internals and repaired a hairline crack where seal and lens meet using Effetto Mariposa Carbo Grip. Essentially, it’s a sophisticated silicone resin assembly spray, designed for the modern, composite age but works a treat on a wealth of other materials/contexts including tri-bars, handlebar grips, bottle/carrier and fender mounts 

Elsewhere, The Teenage Dream was roused from hibernation with a set of these Fibrax Xtreme weather pads and I took this opportunity for a quick tyre swap in favour of those 25mm Freedom thick slicks-pretty much filling clearances to capacity while the pads stopping prowess saw me sit up and take notice. Perfect for winter trainers, I’d like to put their cantilever versions to the test on a laden tourer-just by way of comparison and mountain bikers will be interested to hear they’re also available in a V brake compatible format. Clever self-cleansing channelling uses rainfall to prevent muck/grit accumulating and scouring sidewalls-great news for less vigilant riders but those with swanky composite hoops will need to look elsewhere. Loquacious probing couldn’t reveal anything of their exact composition-apparently it’s a trade secret and native to Wales….

 

It started with a hiss…Aka The Blow out special

Not, not the sort inducing squeals of delight at the prospect of treating oneself to end of season kit at a serious discount, I’m referring to those inducing heavy hearts and fevered pannier/wedge pack rummaging for tyre levers, spare tubes and/or patch kit. Sources suggest we’ve had a months’ rain in a matter of days, slightly ironic given the hosepipe ban currently enforced here in the UK. A quick wander around the web brought me to the central Asian republic of Uzbekistan, it wasn’t long into a late afternoon meander before my mind adventured to faraway lands, their people, the culture, architecture all captured via compact system camera and successive memory cards. Swooping into a left-hand bend coincided with torrential cloudburst as water cascaded from the saturated fields, washing silt, shards of glass and other debris across the single moderately surfaced carriageway.

A gritty sound suggested some had begun clogging the Univega’s portly expedition rubber but before I could draw to a halt and purge its water channelling grooves, sharps ripped through the Kevlar casings and burrowed through thorn resistant tubes with a sickening hiss. Holed up in an empty field, I began rummaging in panniers for the first aid kit-spare tube, patch kit, tyre levers, pump etc. Cursing myself for leaving the Co2 inflator indoors, mercifully 550 strokes from the PDW frame fit brought us 80psi and back on the road. However jubilation proved short-lived with a further two glass torpedoes infiltrating the tyre’s armoured casing. Moral sinking quicker than said carcass, I was yards from Uncle Benny’s so wheeled us to the shelter of his veranda. 

In stark contrast to our relatively private personas, we have an unspoken, open house philosophy towards each other, having grown up in the same street. It wasn’t long before coffee, cake, sympathy and a very welcome track pump was placed beside me. Intermittent chat and banter suggested the stem on his road bike left him stretched that twenty millimetres too far.

By my reckoning a 90 should restore a sense of equilibrium. Tubes patched and tyre emergency booted, I swung a leg over the Univega’s top tube and beat a hasty retreat before Mother Nature could unleash another round of thunder, lighting and monsoon rain reminiscent of those opening scenes in An American Werewolf in London. Fifteen minutes later we’d made it home and had begun swapping tyres, consigning the rear Schwalbe to my cannibalise pile, swapping the front to the rear and refitting a 1.75 section Michelin to the front. Convinced I’d solved the problem, I popped out the next afternoon for a quick fifteen miles…