The invisible man

Random's new bike

Our kids have already lost that sheen of innocence and gullibility that so characterised their tender years. Back in the good old days, it was simple to convince – especially Random – that her belly button was in fact a third ear for use when soapy hair washing reduced the biologically proven aurals to hissing sea sounds.

But still I try. And lately, pouncing on the cloak of invisibility, a number of theories have espoused the “underbed farting monster”, “the drinking all of dads beer monster” and “the nasty wraith who jumps on the scales and adds twenty pounds to my virtually fat free body“.

It’s a struggle but I feel that messing with your kids heads is a parental responsibility, so it’s kind of incumbent on me to plant expensive therapy seeds now. It’s may be the only chance I get.

Talking of pointless niches, here is another one – I’ve read a million mountain bike reviews with the faintly pretentious baffling on about crucial angles, trail geometry and the ability of six welded pipes to “rail singletrack” or “increase your willy size by at least 50{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2}“. Possibly, I’ve been mixing magazines here but that’s hardly the point at issue. And here is what the issue is; while the mags talk of bottom bracket clearance and spurious head angles, a special interest group wants to know how well does the bloody thing ride one handed.

Let me put the bloody saddle up

You can keep your ability to carve narrow singletrack or drop distances normally assocaiated with getting a passport and instead focus on what is important. And if they won’t I will – my new hardtail has wheeled more miles with me acting as the tea pot pilot than it has armed with both hands. And I’m not afraid to say that it’s the “best one handed bike you will ever ride”. I even managed to chuck it down some steps one handed much to the disgust of my wife. She felt this was well outside the parameters of “a gentle family ride

Three on the back one in the boot

And she is probably right. We Christened Random’s new 20 incher (oh plllleeease, she’s only six, button it!) which is a little too big for her but she rides round the problem in a way that makes me think the milkman may have been involved in her conception. A similar issue in Morocco left me puffing the puff of the terminally useless and demanding that someone provides me with a working bike RIGHT NOW.

The best one handed bike I ever rode :)

I couldn’t help noticing that our family has the nicest bikes, the best riding kit, the highest scores on the little known bike maintenance anal scale and almost perfectly colour coordinated. I put this down to my obsession that has – through stealth campaigns – upped the ante with clothing, bikes and accessories for the rest of the family.

PoshBikes(tm) hits the Sustrans

Let me tell you, we KICKED ASS on the sustrans today. I’ve almost trained the kids to spit on crappy Halfords bikes and shell suits. For all my raving liberalism, there is a level of bike snobbery that can never be tamed.

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