Suck my arse!

Well that got your attention didn’t it? And if you were seamlessly multi-tasking both breakfast and hedgehog, please accept my apologies for any damage a high velocity muesli shot may have inflicted on your monitor.

As ever context is key here. Struggling home the other night into the teeth, gums and entire puffing face of a gale, a fellow commuter reclassified me as his personal windbreak. Now not being au fait with roadie etiquette, it wasn’t clear whether one is expected to put up with this kind of thing or if “ as was my instinctive reaction “ beating them to death with the sticky end of a pump would be a proportional response.

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Cycling Myth#5 “ you can never have too many locks.

Okay not quite true, the corollary of this is that you can never have too many keys. My biggest fear “ well apart from the one about involving goats and someone elses video camera but we’ll not go into that here “ is arriving at the station without the ability to lock or unlock my bike.

Because I’m so paranoid about it, it never happens. And when I say paranoid – you’re talking about a man who believes unpleasant weather systems specifically target and follow him in some kind of meteorological conspiracy – that involves checking for the reassurance of keys about five times before riding and a couple of times during.

However, this doesn’t hold for when I’m not riding, which shouldn’t matter but does. There’s times when essential maintenance needs carrying out “ even to me the crank falling off comes under the heading of essential “ and for some reason I’m not riding.

On the last two occasions this has happened, I’ve forgotten my keys and attempted to do something complex with spanners while my bike is chained to a bike rack at the station. It clearly looks like I’m trying to nick parts off it and it’s just as clear nobody actually cares. One day I may just start unbolting plant off the platform in a social experiment designed to illicit some response from an uncaring public.

Anyway I digress.

Due to impending holiday, I was keen to make my London bike scrote proof by locking it up with at least two of Abus’ finest. With a precision logistical strike, I unearthed two spare locks from the shed and secreted them in my rucksack. Sadly I failed to do the same with the keys so aside from the extra exercise required to drag two heavy yet useless locks about, my anti-scrote plan was stymied.

Instead I bought yet another lock. Because of the paranoia you see. I now have a total of four locks in London of which two are on the bike. The others are ensuring no one cheekily runs off with an unused bike rack.

This is the second time this has happened giving me a total of seven locks so my keyring resembles a jailors. There’s got to be a better solution than stoking Evans’ profits on a monthly basis. I just don’t know what it is. It probably involves two key rings, a post-it note on my forehead and some common sense.

So more locks it is then 😉

TAXI!

Okay, one more. Although this site is worryingly bagging 300+ individual hits per day, no one dines to leave a comment. It’s not that I’m vain or anything (well ok I am but that’s not the point here so stop pointing at the screen shouting “you are, you bloody are“) but it’d be nice occasionally for someone to comment “thanks, your transparent attempt to boost a shallow ego through the medium of vanity publishing has made me realise why the Internet is such a pointless place to spend my time, and I’m off to save the world instead“. Or something.

I suffered two cab journeys last night, the combined mileage of which would have easily ushered me home without the tedious intermediary of a train trip. The first ride was from a restaurant in East London to Marylebone. Well that’s what I thought anyway but due to a little cultural confusion, the driver instead motored round in ever decreasing circles before attempting to deposit me at Mile End.

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