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.

Fait accompli

  

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.   

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.

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.