Moo.

I have to stop buying bikey shit with my dick. This is in no way a pledge to do so, merely a diagnosis.

My first bike purchase was a single/fixed cyclocross bike.  The fact it’s turned out to be a reliable and weatherproof steed is irrelevant to the fact I bought it because singlespeeding/fixie is the most macho-seeming type of bike. I say ‘seeming’ since a few moments of analysis reveal that it’s only well-‘arder than a geared bike for going over any given course at a given speed. If one is keeping effort expended as a constant, the geared bikes just go faster. Usually.

My third bike lock is a motorbike chain. It weighs around five kilos and while it’s probably so tough as to deter any thief without explosives, there’s a dearth of things of equally adamant nature to lock it to, and it’s such a chore to carry that, rather than oblige myself to do so, I just don’t take my scrotebait bikes into town.

My current front light is around three times brighter than I need it to be. In fact it’s three times brighter than it should be for urban use, so it’s just as well it has power settings or I’d have wasted even more money on it than I already have.  Well, in fairness, the 350 lumen flavour is £90, my 650 device is £115 and the battery appears to be the same animal, so proportionately it’s not been too dreadful.

It’s doubly pointless having these burly things since I ride like a granny in town. In fact I occasionally get scalped by persons of grandparenting age purely because there’s some filtering they’re willing to do that I’ve baulked at. I’m not going to change that. Riding in the rush hour bear pit is already enough of an extreme sport for me, thankyouvurrymuch.

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