An Easy Guide to Buying a Bike

It’s summertime. So, of course, it’s the time of year when everyone rummages in the shed, finds their bike lying unloved and rusty where it was deposited after a wet ride last year, and decides to treat themselves to a new machine. It’s not surprising that bike shops do their best business during these warm sunny months.

It’s also the time of year when I get most emails, texts and phone calls from friends looking for a few tips on what kind of bike should be their next purchase.

I don’t mind helping friends with bike questions at all. In fact, I love it - there's nothing quite like the simple pleasure of spending someone else's money in a bike shop. But, in recognition of the fact I repeat the same advice to numerous people, I thought I should summarise the key points somewhere online.

So here, carefully distilled, are some of the nuggets of wisdom I most frequently suggest. Some are the answers to questions that often appear in my inbox, on my phone or across a pub table, while others, frankly, are just well-intentioned rants I feel the need to pass on to any friend who will listen.

Of course, not all my friends are bike beginners – many are far more knowledgeable than me. So bikers, feel free to criticise and add to what follows. And the rest of you, I hope this stuff comes in handy when you step into the bike shop.

Here goes…

1. It doesn’t matter which make you buy.
More than any other question I get asked, the most frequent is “What’s a good make?”. But it’s also the question that matters least. There are many good bikes out there, made by many companies. And to be honest, as long as you have a realistic budget, and you don’t go for inappropriate gimmicks, it’s very hard to buy a bad bike. Unless you go for the wrong size.

2. It does matter where you buy.
So much more important than the brand you buy is the shop you buy from. Ask where friends bought their bikes. Shop around. Which bike retailer seems to be the most genuine? Who seems to ask the right questions about you and your riding? Who would you feel comfortable coming back to with a problem or a query? See if anyone is willing to throw in a few extras (helmet, lights, a lock, maybe) but don’t be greedy – a saving of £25 on accessories is arguably not as valuable as the reassurance of buying from a local shop you like and trust.

2. Choose your weapon.
The make may not matter, but the type of bike certainly does. Be realistic about your needs. Fast and speedy road bike? Versatile street/hybrid machine? Or rufty tufty mountain bike? If in doubt about what you’ll be doing, veer toward the off-road end of the spectrum. It’s easier to adapt a mountain bike later to make it speedier on the road than it is to convert a road bike for off-road duties.

3. Don’t be afraid to spend a bit of money.
A few times, friends with a fair bit of money in their back pockets have asked for my opinions on new bikes costing under £150. For a new bike, £150 is really not much money to spend at all. In fact, the quality is likely to be so low that they would be put off cycling for life. If you’re looking to buy a bike on a budget, then consider the fact that at that level, an extra £50 or £100 can make a world of difference. Upwards of around £300, bikes start to become the kind of machine you can ride on a regular basis with some feeling of enjoyment. If this seems a lot, check out secondhand options.

4. Don’t forget secondhand options.
If you’re struggling to afford a decent new machine, then yes, there is always the secondhand market. For the price of a brand new pile of shiny creaking scaffolding poles, you can find a perfectly good pre-owned bike. The usual warnings apply as with anything bought secondhand, especially via the internet. If you find a bargain, be sure that the bike you’re buying is the right fit and size for you. The only way to be sure is to visit the seller for a test ride. The best bike in the world fails to be so if you can’t ride it comfortably.

Ask about the history of the bike, and ask to see receipts. If you suspect a bike to be stolen, the honourable thing to do is to walk away. Bike thieves are a certain special kind of scum. Their customers are not much better.

5. Getting the right size is the most important thing of all
Use this three-step guide to getting the right size:

i) Goolie clearance – first check you can stand over the bike with room to spare. You’ll need a few inches for off-roading, If it’s too close for comfort, try a smaller size.

ii) Seat height – Next, adjust the seat to the correct height (see 6). If you can’t get it high enough without exposing the ‘Max insert’ mark on the seatpost, try a larger size.

ii) Reach – arguably the most important thing to check. When you’ve sorted the seat height and you’re sat on the bike in riding position, do you feel comfortable? Does your weight feel nicely balanced between your hands and your bum? If you feel too huddled, try a larger size. If you feel too stretched, try a smaller size. But bear in mind, if you’re checking out a sportier bike than you’re used to, a bit of stretch might be part of the bike’s design. Go for a test ride to settle in.

The main rule of bike sizing: Ignore the nominal size classifications the manufacturers use. On one brand of bike, you may measure up as a 19”, as opposed to their alternatives of 17” or 21”. On another make, you may feel comfortable with an 18”. Some bikes have abandoned this way of sizing in favour of the S,M,L,XL system. Whatever bike you’re looking at, size up each different model from scratch, assuming that one marque’s idea of a ‘Large’ or a ‘17”’ is very different to another’s. It invariably is.

6. Correct seat height might be higher than you think.
Forget what you learned at school all those years ago about being able to touch the floor with both feet. If you use this as a guide to seat height, you’ll be nursing very sore thighs and bulging knees after a couple of miles. For most riding, the best seat position is one where, with the pedal at its lowest position and your heel on the pedal, you have the very tiniest amount of bend on your knee – virtually straight. If you feel more confident with the saddle an inch or two lower, especially off-road, then that’s fine, but you will lose some pedalling comfort. You should never ride with the seat too high – if you’re rocking your hips or you can feel your legs stretching to reach, lower your saddle immediately.

7. Handlebar height – Don’t worry, be happy.
Your handlebar height is rarely very adjustable. But that’s OK – it doesn’t need to be. If you’re feeling strange about the fact that you can’t lift your bars to a height that matches your saddle, then don’t be alarmed – it’s quite normal for your bars to be lower than your seat. A proportion of your weight should be borne by your hands – not just your saddle. Don’t think of handlebars merely as some kind of steering accessory.

8. Test Ride, every time.
Don’t ever consider buying a bike without a test ride. Whether you’re going for new or secondhand, you can never tell if a bike is right just buy sitting astride it. Any decent shop (or reasonable secondhand seller) will accept some kind of security (credit card, cash sum or small child) as deposit while you go for a spin. When you test ride, try to pick a route with climbs, descents and corners that will give you a reasonable impression of the bike’s fit and comfort. If it ain’t comfy, don’t buy it.

9. You don’t need suspension.
Suspension is fairly new on the scene. Just a few short years ago, it was seen as an expensive novelty. Don’t assume that just because your riding may take you over a few bumps, suspension is vital. Most decent mountain bikes costing anything over a couple of hundred quid will have front suspension. This is no bad thing, and helps to make the ride smoother and more comfortable. But unless you’re spending an amount approaching £1000, I would think twice before you opt for rear (or ‘full’) suspension. On sophisticated bikes, rear suspension is great. On cheaper models, it’s a heavy waste of money that detracts from the quality of the rest of the bike.

10. Helmets are optional, but recommended.
It’s not compulsory to wear a helmet. If the idea of wearing a helmet is putting you off riding a bike, then fine – get a bike, ride helmet-less and enjoy yourself. But think about it. A helmet costs £25. And it gives you an 80% better chance of surviving a head impact. I wear one, and I’d recommend all my friends to do the same. And if you’re going to wear one, take a few minutes to adjust the straps for a proper fit. There’s nothing quite as useless as a helmet perched on the back of your head with the straps swinging down like a hammock.

11. Don’t fear the gears.
Most bikes these days will have between 14 and 27 gears. But it’s not the quantity that counts – it’s how you use them. Don’t assume that the higher the gear, the faster you will go. Get used to spinning your legs in nice fast even circles – each revolution taking much less than a second. Then adjust the gears to suit your legs – not the other way round. If you’re pedalling with a discernable left-right-left-right feeling, or you can feel yourself rocking from side to side, you’re very likely to be in the wrong gear – change down and be kind to your knees! If your bike has gear shifters on both sides of the handlebars, and you find yourself confused, then go easy on yourself. Leave the left-hand shifter in ‘2’ and do all your changing with your right hand, with continuous pedalling that eases for a stroke or so after each shift to allow the gears a chance to change.

12. Use your balls.
Pedal using the balls of your feet: the widest part. Try not to pedal with your heels or the centre of your feet. If you’re wearing high heels and you find that the pedals naturally seem to fit at the back of your foot, then don’t wear high heels.

13. Women’s bikes.
Historically, manufacturers who offer ‘women’s bikes’ have been supplying traditionally-shaped frames with dropped crossbars – handy for riding wearing a dress or long skirt. Like you do.

Serious female cyclists would avoid these anachronisms in favour of a standard, or ‘gents’ model. But things have changed. Most of the major bike brands now offer women’s bikes that look at first glance like regular machines. The difference is in the detail. These bikes will typically be shorter, to accommodate smaller arms. They’ll often include other details like smaller brake levers, shorter cranks, women’s saddles and softer suspension. Check them out – they’re often worth a look. But don’t assume that a women’s model will necessarily fit you just because you’re female. Test ride standard bikes alongside these women’s versions and go with whichever feels most comfortable. Try not to be swayed by the pink flowery designs that often decorate these girlie bikes.

14. Disc brakes - Good or gimmicky?
As with suspension, disc brakes are a feature which has made mountain biking more comfortable for many people. Discs are more powerful than other braking options, which means you’ll need less effort to achieve the same braking effect, so no more tired fingers after long descents. Other benefits include longer maintenance-free running time between services, an easier ride home following a wheel-wobble-inducing incident, and more life from your wheel rims, as discs don’t grind away at your wheels like conventional brakes do.
But, just like suspension, all these benefits come at a price. Cheap bikes with disc brakes will often be sporting the worst examples of this technology, with more weight, poorer durability and worse performance than rim brakes on an equivalently priced bike. If you’re looking at a disc-equipped bike for less than around £500, check out the V-braked equivalents. You could be in for a surprise.

So there we go. My 14 commandments. Can anyone think of anything I've missed?

It’s Early May and History is Repeating Itself

Since 1999, the first weekend in May has always been the cue for a kind of nervous excitement for me. During the years I worked overseas for Neilson, this time of year was generally the time when, after several weeks of preparation, our first customers of the summer would arrive and we would swap our hammers and paintbrushes for uniforms, clipboards and big grins as we began our real task of biking, windsurfing and sailing with our guests.

My last summer season overseas was in 2002, but since then, working in the Neilson office, I’ve still been party to the genuine excitement of the annual Official Start of Summer.

This year is different. Time for a change. For nearly nine years I worked for Neilson as a mountain bike guide, as a centre manager, as a product executive and latterly as their online editor. But I decided to move on.

It would be the most enormous understatement to say I will look back on my Neilson years with fondness. My first summer, in 1999, fresh from a Liverpool bike shop, was a magical experience. I simply couldn’t believe that I was being paid to live in the Turkish sunshine introducing people to mountain biking and taking them on pleasant rides along breezy coastlines and pine forests. The customers were great – my colleagues were even better.

Gundogan 1999 was followed by Finikounda 2000. Fini, as anyone who’s been will confirm, is the most magical Greek village. The Fini team of 2000 became a bunch of friends who, I think, showed the customers as good a time as they were having themselves. Some of my friends from summer 2000 remain my closest pals today, and I suspect they always will be.

A brief taste of ski chalet hosting in the winter helped to prepare me for my first summer as a manager – in the legendary mountains of Chamonix in the French Alps. Accompanied by a pair of accomplished chalet hosts, we welcomed people for weeks of mountain biking and other fun in one of the most amazing locations I have ever spent time.

Then followed a winter in the Caribbean on the island of Grenada, as a bike guide once more. I’ll never forget Christmas Day 2001: a ride through the rainforest villages before a relaxed lunch on a golden beach with blue surf rolling in.

Then in 2002 I returned to Finikounda, this time as centre manager. A few new challenges, but the same laid-back Fini, same great biking and the same kind of up-for-it guests that made this work such a pleasure.

Even after I began my five year stint in Neilson’s Brighton office, early May would still bring a rush of excitement as colleagues in the Mediterranean would open their doors for the summer.
But this year, for the first time in nearly a decade, I’m no longer seeing May from a Neilson viewpoint. I’m now working for CTC – a cycling organisation. And my first task is to oversee the setting up of a cycling project for the disabled. I feels good to be working once again with people and with bikes.

So, on the first Monday in May, I find myself, after weeks of preparation, excitedly opening up a shed full of bikes, pulling on a brand new uniform shirt and cycling with beginners in a sunny forest. Just like I was nine years ago.

And as I write this, I know another beautiful day is beginning on a wonderful beach somewhere in southern Greece…

Double 700C and Tonic

Just before Christmas, I found myself joining the staff of a bike shop for a Christmas night out. We started in a pub before moving on to a Chinese restaurant.

Early in the evening, the boss returned from the bar with a substantial round of drinks, and we started discussing the considerable mark-up placed on drinks by the licensed trade.


Later in the night, we somehow got onto the subject of how we could hardly judge - seeing bike shops have their own equivalent profit-maker: inner tubes.

Drinks.
Inner Tubes.

Hmmm.

What followed was a boozy conversation which, though it seemed like a good idea at the time, is admittedly one of the geekiest in which I have ever played an active part. For some reason that I can't explain, it seemed a natural process to find an appropriate drink to match each of the inner tubes for sale in a bike shop.

I present below our reasoned findings, transcribed from the paper napkin upon which they were noted. Make of them what you will.

Inner Tube	Drink
700 x 38C Schraeder	White Wine
700 x 35C Presta	Real Ale
20 x 2 Schraeder	Vodka Red Bull
700 x 21C Presta	Mineral Water
27 x 1 3/8 Tubular	Red Wine
26 x 2 Schraeder	Carling
26 x 2 Presta	Becks
20 x 1 3/8 Schraeder	Vodka and Tonic
16 x 1 3/8 Schraeder	Tanqueray Gin and Tonic
29 x 2.2 Presta	Single Malt Whisky
700C Cyclocross Tubular	Sloe Gin
24 x 2.5 Schraeder	Strongbow Cider
26 x 3 Schraeder	Stella Artois Lager

Cycling Meets Agriculture Down on the Allotment

A couple of days after Christmas Mel and I found ourselves in the beautiful city of Bath. We spent a lazy day wandering round shopping, drinking coffee and taking in the atmosphere. I was keen to see the beautiful Royal Crescent, so on our way back to the car park we detoured through Victoria Park before we chanced upon a sizable area of allotments, where Bath's keen smallholders were cultivating their fruit and veg.

Melody loves her allotment, and the idea of snooping around other people's always excites her, so we climbed over the gate and began nosing around the cabbages and leeks. We were about to leave the allotments and resume our search for the car, when I spotted what looked like a bike, but with its front end attached to some kind of archaic mechanism.




This bike had been adapted into a pedal-powered sieve, presumably to rid the local soil of stones and lumps. A chain lead forward from the pedals and was connected to a large mesh drum, which was then intended to rotate, shaking the soil contents so that fine earth falls through and rocks are retained. It was sadly not functional, else I would certainly have hopped aboard and taken it for a cheeky spin.

I've always known that bikes have the ability to solve many of the world's problems. But I never knew that lumpy soil was one of them.

First Ride-By Shouting of 2008

So there we were.

About half-past midnight no New Year's Eve and Mel and I are riding merrily along Brighton's seafront cyclepath.

Given the time and date, it is no surprise to see dozens of pedestrians wobbling about in the cycle lane. Understandable given the whiff of booze in the air.

So we ride along, happily honk-honking (Mel) and ting-a-linging (me) to clear a path through the merry-makers. We're greeted with countless cheery waves and new year wishes as folks get out of our way.

Until one bloke turns around and shouts "What are you doing? This isn't fucking Amsterdam!" We smile and wave back. There may even have been a bonus honk from Mel.

But he was serious: "This isn't fucking Amsterdam!". What could we say? It wasn't.

But it did smell a little like it.

Hello St. Pancras - Where can I park my bike?

Today, the new £800m St. Pancras International rail terminal welcomed its first Eurostar service. I had a quick look at the nearly finished station on Saturday. It looks great. A simple hi-tech glass structure extends the original trainshed structure accompanied by Gilbert Scott's glorious gothic front end to the station.

Looking around the new St. Pancras, it seemed that something was missing; that something wasn't right. I couldn't place it, but it seems the clever people at Camden Cyclists had identified what was missing: cycle racks. This enormous new rail terminal had been designed with how many cycle racks? Thirty. Just thirty cycle racks for what is supposed to be the main rail terminus of a world class city and Olympic host.

In addition, it has been pointed out that the surrounding road system does little to provide a safe environment for cyclists traveling to, from or around St. Pancras. Added to this the fact that Eurostar's cycle policy is far from practical and Camden Cyclists had identified several significant reasons why this supposed revolution for British transport is severely lacking when it comes to its provision for cycling as a means of transport.

So, I'm glad to hear that the Camden Cyclists protest today was a great success. Calling attention to these three issues, they managed to provoke a sudden increase in the number of cycle racks, and the promise of a change in Eurostar's cycle policy. Of course, the matter of improving the safety of the surrounding road infrastructure is a harder thing to change - more's the pity that it wasn't properly taken into account during the seven year construction of this immense and otherwise impressive engineering project.

Unfolding the Folder - The Nonsense of Southern Railways' Cycle Policy

This bike is pictured aboard the 18.19 train from Brighton to London Victoria. Trains travelling between the two cities at this time, and for six key hours every weekday, are subject to Southern Railways' cycle policy, which outlaws all bikes other than folders, like this Brompton.

Southern explain this policy as their way of trying to lessen inconvenience for non-cycling passengers, and presumably to accommodate more passengers on each train. This rule is enforced despite the fact that every fourth carriage on each train has dedicated space for two bikes, arranged with a layout which sacrifices none of the seating provided for passengers. For six hours every working day, these spaces are left empty. The only bikes permitted onboard are folding bikes, ranging from flexible, wobbly £200 efforts to more viable, reliable machines costing in excess of £500.

So, Southern tell us: Two wheels bad. Two wheels plus hinge good.

Time for a small experiment.

My employer has just acquired a Brompton for us to use as a company vehicle. A great idea and just the ticket for meetings in London or in Peterborough, home of our parent company. As a folding bike, it can be legally carried on all Southern trains, regardless of the time of day. But what if I took this bike on a train without folding it? What if I didn't fold the folder? Is a folder only seen as a folder when it's folded? Would it create some kind of inconvenience to my fellow passengers in its assembled stature? Would a guard (sorry - Revenue Protection Officer) ask me to collapse the bike into its folded form? Would I be thrown from the train as a two-wheeled trouble-maker?

Of course not. I wheeled the bike through the ticket barriers and parked it in one of the dedicated bike spaces where it remained for the rest of my journey. No-one was inconvenienced and no-one was denied any travelling comfort by the presence of my fully assembled bike.

Which begs the obvious question: If this bike was allowed onto the train in its full-sized, fully assembled state, why are regular, non-folding bikes forbidden? Bikes like the Brompton are great, but they are expensive, they handle strangely and they lack many benefits of regular full-sized bikes. To ban bikes from trains in the crude broad-brushed way favoured by Southern calls into question any attempt to acheive affordable 'integrated transport' as part of the relationship between the sibling cities of London and Brighton.

Some commuters previously mixing their modes of transport have given up and reverted to their cars. Others have tried the approach of locking up their bikes at railway stations, to the glee of bike thieves who are thriving in this new era.

When Southern first began to enforce their cycle policy, there were protests, petitions and news coverage. Maybe it's time to revisit this issue, before Southern begin to believe that this way of working is anything other than a terrible idea.

La La La - I Can't Hear You! (Updated)

Okay, it's confession time: My name is Clive and I listen to my iPod while I ride my bike.

I'm sorry.

I've lost count of the number of friends whose faces have suddenly turned to looks of horror at the unexpected sight of me simultaneously wearing bike helmet and earphones.

Don't get me wrong - I'm a good guy. Before you start wagging your finger at a delinquent cyclist, I stop at red lights, I wear a helmet, I even have a bell. But I like a little music on my way to work. Is that really so wrong? Bikes and music are two sensory experiences I really appreciate, so enjoying both at once is a great way to start the day.

Yet this simple pleasure earns stern disapproval from concerned individuals - most of whom will express this concern from behind the wheels of their cars. "Oh you really shouldn't do that!" they say. "You won't hear the big lorries!"

What? Have you thought this through?

If I ride sensibly, and the traffic on the road drives likewise, the odds are that my progress will be unhindered by incident. And if I, or my fellow road users, make any stupid manoeuvres, I am at risk. Will someone please explain to me how this situation changes as soon as I pop a pair of headphones in my ears? Listening to music does not suddenly cause cyclists to swerve erratically from side to side as they ride. So why am I more at risk with a spot of music in my ears?

A while ago, a senior police officer was heard in the media to warn cyclists against the perils of riding a-la-MP3, following the tragic death of a cyclist who disappeared beneath the wheels of a lorry. Of course, it was her own fault - she was listening to her iPod at the time. The lorry (or its driver) must have been unavoidably drawn towards the device, for reasons I can't quite fathom. How awful.

If someone was stabbed to death while reading a book in the park, would police chiefs be lining up to warn of the connection between literature and knife crime? Would the assiallant likely have left their victim alone if they weren't engrossed in a Dan Brown on a park bench? Would the attacker get away with a reduced sentence in light of the circumstances? "The so-called victim is to blame m'lud, for he was reading a book when he died."

If you're really concerned about the safety of cyclists, don't nag me about my iPod. Put down your mobile, turn down the Phil Collins, slow down and give me some space. That will enhance my odds of survival far more effectively than forcing me to ride to work without my favourite tunes.

UPDATE 03/10/07

Okay, it seems this post provoked a reaction from some of my friends (I guess the friends I mentioned earlier). I have had a few emails, comments and Facebookings arguing the other side of the argument. Which is right and good, because, frankly, I was being a bit one-sided when I wrote the above.

So let me straighten it out a little: I do acknowledge that part of safe cycling in cities is about adapting to the behaviour of others. And I acknowledge also that without high sensory awareness, I cannot be aware of all this behaviour. I should make it clear that the vast majority of my commute, luckily for me, takes place on cyclepaths or very quiet roads with low traffic levels. There is one short portion of my daily ride which does offer more danger, and at which the iPod gets switched off and the headphones are removed from ears to dangle from my helmet straps. Anyone who knows Brighton knows how dangerous is the Palace Pier roundabout for cyclists.

So what was I on about in my original post? I suppose what I object to is not so much the fact that anyone should question the wisdom of riding with music; more the assumption that a cyclist is actually in some way to blame for any accident that befalls them while listening to their tunes. Switching off the music may, in some situations, put them in a better position to react to situations created by others, yes. But to suggest that other road users can use a cyclist's iPod as an excuse for their own dangerous driving (as virtually suggested by the aforementioned Australian policeman) is blatantly ridiculous.

So let's set the record straight:

Cyclists - Remember that your sensory awareness may be hampered by music, so listen wisely, if at all.
Motorists/Police/Journalists - Stop pointing fingers at cyclists' MP3 players or helmets. There is no substitute for good driving which avoids dangerous situations and the onus upon cyclists' defensive behaviour.

Birthday - Binary, Bikes and Beer

Friday 29th June 2007 was my 32nd birthday. (When bored the previous evening, it occurred to me that if you were into binary, this would actually be my 100000th. Luckily, I'm not into binary...)

A dreary rainy day at work was followed by a beautiful evening. The clouds parted, the sun broke through and the South Downs beckoned Si, Jim and me up towards Devil's Dyke, along to Truleigh Hill, down to Southwick and back to Brighton with roaring tailwind.

I've been playing with Google Maps a little - Here's the route we took

Ended up at the Robin Hood pub by Brighton's Norfolk Square. I've only recently discovered this place. A friendly kind of pub with decent beer, excellent post-ride pizza and some fantastic photography on the walls. Apparently, all the pub's profits go to charity. The three of us sat among Friday night revellers in our sweaty biking gear and were joined by Nic for a few happy pints.

A great birthday evening - a few miles on the hills followed by beers with some of my favourite people.

National Bike Week Comes to Brighton

National Bike Week began for me this morning at around 4.45am, in the English Channel.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we will shortly be arriving in Newhaven. Enjoy your stay in England."

On our way back from a two day road jolly in Normandy, Tom, Kieron, Saul and I clattered down to the car deck of the ferry to retrieve our bikes and cover the final 17km of our 200km journey - the short ride from Newhaven back to Brighton.

All weekend, we had been contentedly sharing immaculately surfaced roads with French motorists, appreciating their wide, careful overtaking, their patience at junctions and the sensation of being able to stop at traffic lights without the feeling that the car behind you is attempting to climb into your back pocket.

After two days of blissful French cycling and fitful night's waterborne sleep, we rolled off the ferry back onto rainy British roads, resigned to the fact that, back on home turf, we could no longer expect motorists to notice us or respect us as equal road users. We span home along the coast in the rain with cars and trucks passing us at speed.

I returned to Brighton, snatched an hour's sleep, and then packed my stuff for work, swapped my road bike bike for the usual commuter and set off on my 15 minute ride to work, the sun now shining. Within a minute of leaving the house I was flagged down by a cheerful lady in colourfully branded T-shirt.

She reminded me that, as the first day of National Bike Week, today was the day that Brighton & Hove Council were laying on free breakfasts for cyclists. I was ushered towards a nearby café. Not only was I given a flapjack, some fruit and a cup of tea, but a spare bike light and, bizarrely, some Body Shop foot lotion also made it into my courier bag, courtesy of the council. A lively jazz band was playing while free of charge bike maintenance checks were carried out.


I met Dean Spears, Brighton council's cycling mastermind, who told me about the new Journey On website and assured me that our local authority is doing all it can to encourage and enable cycling, as the best mode of transport for our crowded city. Facilities for cyclists in Brighton are relatively good, but they could surely be much much better, so I hope his mission is succesful.

Some of the best documenters of the inconsistencies of British cycle facilities is Brightonian Fred Pipes, whose superb Weird Cycle Lanes blog today points out a straightforward Guardian piece by Emily Thornberry MP, picking apart some of the oft-quoted objections to cycle commuting.

As a cyclist, particularly a commuter, it is easy, so easy, to focus on the negative. Inconsiderate driving, poor roads and the commonly-held perception that cycling is solely for eccentrics can make a British cyclist defensive, perhaps too much so. Events like Critical Mass do wonders for awareness of the power imbalance on British roads, but a lot of their energy lies in the implied confrontation between the needs of the cyclist and the needs of the motorist.

The great thing about this morning's breakfast event, with its music, good food and warm welcome was that it focussed on the positive and it made me smile. It made other cyclists smile, passers by smile and, I hope, motorists smile. Cycling shouldn't be about making a stand and being different. It should be about feeling able to choose a mode of transport which, for most people, offers so many benefits; not least of which is the valuable chance to arrive at work on a Monday morning with a smile on your face.

Return to Liverpool - Part 3 - On The Road

The third day of my visit to Liverpool saw me boarding a train beneath the Mersey to Bebington, to meet Ian.

Ian Tierney was my boss for the two-and-a-half years I spent working at the Liverpool Cycle Centre. He was brought up working with bikes and he taught me most of what I know about cycling. He now runs Cycling Projects, a Manchester-based charity.

We see each other about twice a year, and whenever we meet up we try and find a few spare hours for a bike ride. This is normally off-road, as Ian acknowledges that's always been my riding of choice, so he climbs aboard his mountain bike and humours me for a couple of hours.

But Ian's heart lies in the tarmac. He has fun on off-road, but he's happiest when zipping along on big skinny wheels and drop bars. So imagine the excitement when I arrived on Merseyside accompanied by my new road bike - my first road bike. I arrived at Ian's house with my shiny new Specialized and found him grinning from ear to ear. Not because he was pleased to see me, but pleased to see me "on a proper bike, for once!"

So we set off through the twisting country lanes of Wirral, as Ian guided me and my new bike through a labyrinth of villages and meadows. Our first stop was my inaugural visit to 'Two Mills' café, known to every roadie in the northwest as the definitive place to enjoy a cup of tea and compare handlebars.

Then we made our way to Raby, a village so picturesque you'd be forgiven for thinking you were in rural France, not the suburbs of Liverpool. We enjoyed a couple of pints in the sunshine and reflected on a decade of friendship, ten years of riding together, and the ten years it had taken me to get myself a bike that Ian approved of. It was a great afternoon.


But next time, let's get back on the mountain bikes, eh Ian?

Flying to Work

Brighton's getting a lot of weather at the moment. After a few balmy weeks, the wind and the rain is back with a vengeance.

Yesterday I rode home along the seafront with a howling wind in my face. As I struggled to make headway on my tired old singlespeed, I wished the wind would let up for me. Then I spotted a couple of guys on road bikes coming in the opposite direction along Madeira Drive. They were going three times faster than me, with the wind behind them and big smiles on their faces.

I told myself that the ride to work the next day would make it all worthwhile. And it was. With the wind behind me I flew along the seafront as fast as my little legs could go to keep up.

Nike Cycling: Not Doing It Anymore

It looks like Nike's relationship with the sport of cycling may be coming to an end. BikeBiz have announced the end of Nike's tie-up with Trek, the largest bike company in the US, with whom they market their cycling clothing and shoes. Nike say that this does not necessarily mark the end of their involvement with the sport, but with all but handful of Nike Cycling employees laid off, it's not looking promising.

Over recent years, Nike has had a refreshing presence in a market more used to traditional European brands. Their sponsorship of Lance Armstrong has been a powerful force in cycling marketing. When, in 1996, Armstrong was diagnosed with cancer he was released from his professional contract with Cofidis. With a life-threatening illness and no medical insurance, Armstrong's sponsors at Nike, along with Oakley and Giro, agreed to cover all his medical expenses.

The man who looked like his life would soon be over not only survived, but went on to win the Tour de France an unprecedented seven consecutive times, capturing the world's imagination with his survival story. It seems that Nike's investment paid off. Many times over.

But now, following his retirement in 2005, Lance Armstrong's status as a sports personality is fading away. And with him goes Nike's unique hold on cycling.

Nike Cycling was Lance Armstrong. The whole brand was built on one man. Now his career is over, maybe Nike have realised that their presence within the world of cycling needs to be drastically scaled down. Or even ended.

Still, it was a partnership which worked well. Check out this advert - one of several Nike made with Armstrong. Truly inspirational and beautifully put together. It would take the most cynical cyclist not to feel any emotion during the following one minute and 33 seconds.


Click here to see a larger version

Thanks to Andy for reminding me of this great advert. You know I'm going to have to buy that road bike now, don't you?

Spring Forward

The clocks have gone forward an hour.
British Summer Time is upon us.

Simon was very excited about this, so he, Frazer and I rode on the first of 2007's 'extended' evenings.

The following morning, as I washed my bike outside my house, carefully removing two layers of South Downs filth and one of south Wales, a small boy and his mother made their way along the pavement where a pool of mud was forming around me.

The lady ushered her young son past me, avoiding the mess.

"He's been playing in the mud!" said the little boy.

"Yes" replied Mum.

"Can I play in the mud?"

Am I leading the next generation astray? I do hope so.

A Plea to my Cycling Friends

I like riding bikes.
I like taking photos.
And above all, I love spending time with my friends.

When all three come together, and I find myself photographing friends on bikes, I'm rarely happier.

But, I need to issue a plea to all my bicycle-riding chums:

I'm glad that the reflective details on your bikes and clothing make you safer at night, but it buggers up any photograph I try and take with a flash.

So please, next time I'm riding with you in the evening or at night, and you see me reach for my camera, do the decent thing, get out your screwdrivers and scissors and remove all the reflectors, armbands, stickers and clothing from you and your bicycle. Or get out of shot so I can get a picture without blinding white sparks burning out of the picture.

It will keep my Trash folder much emptier and will increase the odds of seeing yourself scooting along on Flickr.

Off-Road Utopia

Last weekend was one of our several-times-a-year mountain biking trips. The first significant trip of 2007.

The destination for this springtime adventure? South Wales. The purpose-built, manufactured trails of Brechfa and Glyncorrwg, near Port Talbot.

A superb weekend. Largely thanks to the chance to spend time playing with good friends. But a significant part of last weekend's smiles were due to the frankly wonderful trails we rode. Superb. Distracting, winding climbs followed by flattering playful singletrack. Si and Sam roar on ahead while I endeavour to keep up with Sally as we follow at our own pace. But everyone reaches the bottom with a smile on their face. A huge smile.

Wales and Scotland are now rich with these 'trail centres' - off-road networks in rural forests where mountain bikers have right of way and every curve, berm and obstacle has been developed with the goal of pleasing the British mountain biker. A well-stocked bike shop and better-stocked cafe are strategically positioned at each trailhead to capitalise on two of the key spending tendencies of the species Mountanica Bicyclus Britannicus.

It's a kind of off-road Utopia. But is everything as perfect as it seems?

• We drove for several hours to reach our destination for the weekend. We could have ridden locally on the South Downs. We tell our friends smugly how we do our bit for the environment by taking to two wheels, then whenever we get the chance we drive (or fly) hundreds (or thousands) of miles to endulge our hobby.
  


• These artificial trails may offer superb riding, but sometimes one wonders if they are perhaps a little too perfect. As every corner leads to another stretch of lovely singletrack, gone is the hit-and miss trial-and-error approach of 'natural' mountain biking in Britain's rural areas. Gone are the playful squabbles and guesswork involved in plotting an entertaining route along traditional bridleways and 'cheeky' singletrack. Jo Burt has written more about this in Singletrack magazine (I'll add a link to the exact article if I can find it).
  


• When you separate mountain bikers from the rest of the outdoor enthusiasts of the British Isles by giving them their own playgrounds, you wonder if we're forgetting how to share the open spaces we love. It's great being able to hare around each corner with no concern for the possibility of the absent-minded dog-walker or red-socked rambler, but in the long term, are we doing ourselves any favours by ghettoising ourselves into designated ear-marked mountain biking zones? If the idea gathers momentum that mountain bikers belong primarily in these trail centres, do we start to forego our acceptance on the regular byways and bridleways of the land?
  

Don't misunderstand me; I had a brilliant weekend. But it does make me wonder about the future of British mountain biking if we focus all our passion of these centres.

But they are so much fun! And that is what it's all about.

Roll on Canada...

Meanwhile, here are my photos from the weekend.

Critical Mass

Last Friday I found myself in London at Critical Mass, the monthly bike ride and display of urban cycling solidarity that has been around for well over a decade in cities across the world.

The simple philosophy is to celebrate, once a month, the freedom and fun of cycling without the fear that usually accompanies urban riding. In practice, this means a couple of hours where the cars of a city have to submit to the relaxed pace of a group of cyclists as the tables are turned on a habitually difficult relationship.

Critical Mass has no leaders and no set route. It is not an organised protest in the purest sense, but a gathering of cyclists who all happen to be riding the same way, in no particular hurry. This essential anarchy is at once makes Critical Mass such a beautiful, yet such a problematic thing. Not everyone who takes part is there for the same reasons as each other, which makes it hard to know whether a given Critical Mass will feel like a relaxed evening with friends or a tense experience under the eyes of the police, ever present at most cities' Critical Mass rides.

Predictably, there are delays for motorised traffic. On a good day, these delays are brief and everyone gets to where they are going. Smiles and waves are traded between cyclists, pedestrians and sometimes even motorists.

On a bad day, when the flow and 'buzz' of Critical Mass isn't working as well as it should, there is aggression, frayed tempers and legal problems. It's a shame, as this should be a celebration of positivity, not a chance for cyclists to alienate other road users.

January 2007's London CM was not the best in terms of atmosphere and interaction between riders, police and public. After a couple of hours, I no longer felt the ride was positive, so I rode off towards Stoke Newington where I knew Kate had a pint waiting for me.

But for the first hour or so after the mass of bikes set off from its customary meeting point at the National Theatre, it was a joy to be back in London on two wheels - not easy now that Southern Trains are enforcing their restrictive policy towards carriage of bikes.

The highlight of the evening was, without a doubt, the most amazing sound system I have ever seen on a Critical Mass ride. On Critical Mass it is usual to see a couple of speakers and a small amplifier lashed to a shopping bike, providing music to help create the ride's all-important sense of fun.

Occasionally, an enthusiast pushes the boat out, with a professional sound set-up mounted on a trailer or load carrier.

But Friday's ride was accompanied by the amazing sound of three load-carrying bikes, connected wirelessly, sharing seven speakers and a 3m towable 'sound cannon', filling the streets with music.

These brief videos give only a suggestion of the amazing atmosphere created by this impressive use of technology.

Links:
Critical Mass on Wikipedia
Critical Mass on Flickr
Critical Mass in London
Critical Mass in Brighton
AV2Hire - The guys behind the superb mobile sound system.

Filthy Pleasures

Mountain biking in southern England in January is generally a muddy experience.

A couple of hours in Bedgebury Forest, Kent, leads to a bike covered in thick black gritty mud.

Thankfully, the visitors' centre has a freely available hosepipe.

One of the simple pleasures of mountain biking is the therapeutic process of transforming a filthy bike into a clean one.

Even better than that is the process of transforming a clean bike into a filthy one.

Specialized have gone global...

It looks like Specialized, one of the bike industry's leading players, has made an interesting decision about how it uses its distinctive branding.

Specialized are a big name in bikes and they're very proud of their brand. Most of their bikes have it splashed large on the downtube, as you'd expect from such a trusted marque.

But I was in for a surprise when I first saw one of their new 'Globe' hybrid models. The word 'Globe' has been treated almost as a brand in itself, and occupies prime position on the bike's shiny black downtube. The word 'Specialized cannot be seen, until you notice its decidedly understated presence on some components, and the 'S' logo on the forks and head tube. I didn't even realise this bike was a Specialized until the second time I saw it.



The 'Globe' range of bikes represents the kind of bikes Specialized are looking to sell to 'ordinary' customers - often customers who don't see themselves as experienced or expert cyclists.

Maybe they've realised that the very word 'Specialized', while commanding respect among those in the know, is a little off-putting to those looking for a regular bike to do a regular job.

"Would you like to buy this Specialized bicycle?"

"No thanks - I'm looking for an ordinary one..."

I suppose it's a little like the way that Neilson, the company I work for, has dropped its use of the strapline "The active holiday experts". Presenting yourself as "expert" or "specialised" is great until you realise that some customers are put off by that kind of language.

The interesting challenge for Specialized is that the guilty word in question is their own name.