A few weeks ago I was sat at the lights on Borough High Street, when two Lycra clad loons pulled up next to me. They started complimenting each other on their rides and it was all like a vocal explosion in a bike factory, all "carbon" this and "bottom bracket" that. Meanwhile I sat on my Raleigh Compact, in a ski jacket, feeling toasty but a little left out. You see, I'm not in the club anymore... I don't look like a cyclist, I just look like a hobo who bought a cheap bike on eBay which isn't too far from the truth. I am as visible to them, as they are to HGV drivers.
You see the thing is, my Raleigh Compact is now my only bike. This is a bit of a shock, because I'm used to having at least two. Sometime more. Sometimes five and two sheds full of components, although my wife would probably say that's quite enough. She is wrong.
Over the passed couple of years theft, eBay and wear and tear have taken their toll on my bikes, and with a month or so to go until we emigrate, I am now down to one bike. It feels odd for me to toddle to the garage and find only two bikes in their (the wife's and mine). But what is more of a shock is the bike that I've been left with; Susan B. Allenkey.
She is a 1987 Raleigh Compact. I've owned two of these now; one was a boot-sale purchase for my mum in the mid 90s and the second is Susan. She was initially a cheap alternative to a Brompton. Despite the fact she is the size of a small town when she is folded, First Capital Correct would prefer her to board the train each morning instead of a slimmer, lighter bike that doesn't block their doors because I can actually lift it. Whatever. She was a fond companion for all those f**cking atrocious trips down to the South Coast and back to the Big Smoke.
You see the thing is, my Raleigh Compact is now my only bike. This is a bit of a shock, because I'm used to having at least two. Sometime more. Sometimes five and two sheds full of components, although my wife would probably say that's quite enough. She is wrong.
Over the passed couple of years theft, eBay and wear and tear have taken their toll on my bikes, and with a month or so to go until we emigrate, I am now down to one bike. It feels odd for me to toddle to the garage and find only two bikes in their (the wife's and mine). But what is more of a shock is the bike that I've been left with; Susan B. Allenkey.
She is a 1987 Raleigh Compact. I've owned two of these now; one was a boot-sale purchase for my mum in the mid 90s and the second is Susan. She was initially a cheap alternative to a Brompton. Despite the fact she is the size of a small town when she is folded, First Capital Correct would prefer her to board the train each morning instead of a slimmer, lighter bike that doesn't block their doors because I can actually lift it. Whatever. She was a fond companion for all those f**cking atrocious trips down to the South Coast and back to the Big Smoke.
Now, however, I think I am in love.
Although I'm not in Team Bike anymore Susan is an amazing companion around London. She folds and fits on trains, taxis and the Tube (because sometimes other methods of transport are okay too). She can hold her own against bigger Dutch bikes on a trip to the shops and she's actually quite comfortable over longer distances too.
But, because my only bike is a shonky 3-speed, am I still a cyclist? Can I be taken seriously as a cyclist?
I have no answer for that, I am too busy thinking about how I am going to replace the 3-speed Sturmey Archer (that's never been more than a 1-speed) with a coaster brake, strip down the frame for a respray, put new 451mm BMX rims, Brookes saddle and alloy stem, et al.
I guess that answers it anyway.
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| Stompie and Susan |
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