Form follows fun

Just when I think I'm going to dry up on the subject of cycling style something comes out of the blue. Today a colleague and fellow cyclist (though we haven't talked about bikes much) told me of some "winged bike clips" he'd seen in a magazine. As every fashionista knows - the secret to looking hip is to accessorise.

Like a geography teacher's leather elbow patches, bicycle clips fall into the "practical but dull" category, along with rain capes and most cycle maintenance equipment. As a general rule there is a lack of embellishment to most people's personal property these days - what's happened to customised car windscreen visors with "Kev" and "Shaz" on them, sew on patches for your jeans and the like? The next evolution for cycling will allow people to express themselves more through their bikes and their cycling attire.

So back to the clips - they have a Mercury Messenger of the Gods (or Hermes if your prefer your Gods Greek) reflective wing on the outside and probably do a good job of preventing your right trouserleg from getting an inprint of your chainring too. They're designed by Dutchman (who else) Gijs Bakker - who was a teacher at Eindhoven Academy, though not a geography teacher. The styling reminded me of Alessi's early to mid-90's stuff, especially the collaborations with Phillipe Stark. Our daughter used to love the toothpaste end that opened to wave hello - in fact it never made it onto a toothpaste tube and is probably now at the bottom of a toybox.

If Asterix wore bike clips, this is what he'd wear.

Christmas present or New Year’s Resolution?

It’s always interesting to analyse why people are cycling in January. And I know that we're still in January because there's a massive poster outside Waterloo station telling me to complete my tax return by 31st. I’m currently on the bike because my car’s being repaired. I’m actually enjoying it – except for the bit where I arrive at the station to see the twice-hourly train pulling away.

My commuting steed is a fixed-wheel, late ‘60’s Allin. I love the bike and had big plans to convert it into a mean looking, brakeless speed machine. In much the same way that many youths actually believe that body kits and under floor neon lighting will improve the performance of a Citroen Saxo 1.1L. Common sense and lack of time prevailed and the Allin, complete with perished tyres, plastic bar tape and Wienmann sidepulls (at least I got a bike with no brakes) remains unchanged from the day I bought it.

So my wheels are on the train next to a box-fresh Dawes Ultra Galaxy . Reflectors proudly gleaming on the pedals and spokes, 10 speed cassette marking time like Booker T and the MG’s drummer on “Melting Pot”. The owner was fully kitted in the Armani of the world of cycling – Altura. It sounds classy, but then you realise that everyone and their dog’s wearing the same stuff.

So was this a Christmas present of was it a New Year’s resolution? Surely nobody organises all their present buying friends to start an entirely new sport - with a round robin of emails to aunty Angie (helmet and hi-viz jacket), cousin Pete (Goretex gloves) … This was New Year Resolution territory, it was all so smart. No scuffs, marks, rips, marks or splatters on anything. Even the Brookes saddle looked as if it had at lest another 1000 miles of pain infliction left in it. Here was a case of “ I’m going to take up cycling and to prove I’m serious I’m going to spend at least £2k doing so”. I can imagine the clamour of sales assistants at Evans Cycles (the customer care hotline number still stuck to the downtube) cross-selling and upselling as if their lives depended on it.

Ticket to ride

Depending on which train I catch, I end up on either the type that has funky Tardis-style loos and dedicated cycle spaces or the one with loos that have just enough room to swing an aerosol and mixed cycle space and seating.

Unfortunately I was on the train that allows you to park you bike in an area that four people could flip down a seats were there no bikes there. Experience has shown me that non-cycling commuters don’t like this. Especially if you ask them to move to accommodate your bike.

This evening, on a relatively empty train i.e. nobody playing “sardines” in the vestibule, a commuter swore at my bike. Like it was a dog he could kick out of his favourite armchair before it skulked off to sit mournfully by the back door. Perhaps he couldn’t easily identify an owner – I was travelling incognito. No Dayglo, no Lycra. If he’d looked carefully he’d have spotted my gloves read “Gore Bike Wear” – I know, but the embroidered lettering is too closely stitched to allow unpicking.

In fairness Mr Overworked Angry Commuter has a point. Why should my bike deprive him of a seat? After all I only pay for one seat, why should I effectively take up five?

The Apartment

I watched “The Apartment” again over the weekend and what a film. Today’s Rom-Coms (what an awful description) don’t even come close. You can watch the film on so many levels: for laughs and there are plenty of pithy one-liners, as an insight into human relationships or simply as a love story with a happy ending. It’s a testament to Billy Wilder’s skills that a Christmas Eve suicide attempt can leave you smiling at the end.

All very interesting, but what’s this got to do with cycling style I hear you type? Well don’t be fooled by the Apartment just because Billy Wilder preferred to film in black and white. The world that Jack Lemmon’s C.C. Baxter inhabits is rich in innovation.

• He owns a TV with as many channels as I have and what’s more it has remote control
• He prepares TV dinners
• He has an early equivalent of a personal computer on his desk
• One of bosses uses an electric shaver – at work
• Another boss drives a VW Beetle

and all in 1960, though the film’s set in ’57.

So what’s the newest innovation on your bike that makes a difference? Clipless pedals? Hinault was using them over 20 years ago. STI levers? First professional race used them to win in ’91 according to Bob Roll. Tri-bars? Lemond brought the idea across from tri-athelets to win the ’87 TDF. There's not really been much to get excited about, despite what the cycling magazines tell us.

While The Apartment seems so dated, technological “progress” it depicts can sometimes be overrated. It's happening now with the seduction the gear freak cycling fraternity. It can’t be extended to both sexes – I cannot believe that women get excited over Campagnolo’s new “Ultra Torque” hollow coupling, two piece crankset. But then perhaps I’m being a sexist as C.C. Baxter’s lothario bosses?

Stripes and stars

So after a few distractions, this is the level of fine detail that I want to tackle on Cyclo Style - what logo's your bike got? Most bikes decals and components for that matter look like they've been inspired by Max Power: Trek, Cannondale and Scott are among the worst offenders. In my book if there are some World Championship stripes somewhere on the frame that can only be a good thing. Among the current stable my Ron Cooper, Condor and Benotto all have these simple strips somewhere on the frame. There's something timeless about them that oozes class. That said, they don't make me cycle any faster. Also be warned - don't go getting carried away with those coloured paints either.

I was impressed recently by the Rivendell's attitude (and we are talking attitude, not opinion here) towards frame painting and decals. Revendell's site is more of a manifesto for cycling style that influences everything from the geometry of the frames to the Stanistic emergence of cleated pedals.

A few basic rules

• Don't wear clothing with the logo of your bike on them, better still clothing with no logos at all. Unless of course your multi-million pound annual contract stipulates otherwise and even then professionals should factor in what they'll have to wear when choosing a team. Slipstream team members must be kicking themselves that they didn't negotiate harder - that strip's got to be worth £10k a month before you've even turned a pedal.
• On no account have a go at respraying your bike yourself - I speak from personal experience. Leave frame painting to the pros and spray cans to the taggers
• No neon, Dayglo paint or multi-coloured fades. If the team strip wasn't bad enough this awful Lemond paint job can't have helped Millar's Tour chances.

Handbags and gladrags

It's been another proud day for pedestrian rights. 84 year-old Lady Sharples clouted a red-light jumping cyclist with her handbag today and if the tone of the Evening Standard was anything to go by was quietly supported by their Political Correspondent.

I'm against cyclists who run red lights and I'm tired of those cyclists who attempt to justify doing so. That said in this case there's no excuse for people to start attacking cyclists. Imagine if he'd fallen from his bike into the path of a car?

Lady Sharples was indignant saying she'd "not hit him hard enough"

It's a sad day when pedestrians feel such animosity towards cyclists that they resort to physical violence. I remember once waiting on my bike at the junction between Waterloo Bridge, The Strand and Aldwych (a red light running paradise) and being shouted at by another cyclist for not jumping the red light! I had ridden between two busses and was waiting in the "apron" for bikes preventing Mr Very Important from beating the traffic to the next junction. There should be a Cadburys Caramel Bunny at every junction just reminding people to "take it easy".

Let's be honest we're mainly talking about male, Lycra-clad speed warriors who feel that they're not reaching their desination unless they are turning a 53x14 and passing everything in sight. That sort of cycling simply isn't appropriate in London's busy streets.

The incident has served to resurrect another daft idea: bicycle number plates. Like compulsory helmet wearing it's an idea guaranteed to put people off cycling in the capital. This new form of road rage is a metropolitan thing - the pressure, population density, busy roads and lack of civic pride reduce people to caged rats who eventually start to turn on each other.

Glory through suffering

Cyclists, prticularly those who follow the professionals like to wax lyrical about the glory through suffering that riders experience. The notion seems to tally with the popularity of cycling in Catholic countries - they know how to suffer properly. As anyone who has ridden up a steep hill, into a headwind or both will know, it's not all freewheeling on a bike.

I feel that many cyclists are missing a trick in their training by making things too easy for themselves. What's the point in having the latest 1kg carbon fibre frame? Less weight to shift up a climb = less calories burnt = less suffering = less glory.

I was particularly impressed by "Johnny Onion" who recently completed the 1200km Paris-Brest-Paris on an unrestored 1920's bike. The bke only has two gears and the rider has to pedal backwards to get the bottom gear. I'd like to see more of this sort of daftness. Here's some ideas to get started

• London to Brighton on a Raleigh Chopper


• Lands End to John O'Groates on a Brompton


• recumbent mountainbiking


• Hour record challenges with a bike seat (just getting my children to sit in a bike seat for an hour would be a record


• Motor-paced BMX racing

Going off piste

I've been pondering the "rebirth of cycling" that the press keeps reporting. For me it never went away. I've always had a bike, more recently several and I love going cycling. My intention was to try to capture some of the things I love about it, having been inspired recently by a few excellent blogs.

My plan was to offer some advice and musings to stem the tide of Lycra and Dayglo that it seem compulsory for cyclists to wear these days.

But that'll have to wait as I want to talk about last Sunday morning's bike ride. I cycle alone mostly and particularly enjoy the out of the way tracks around my home in Hampshire. There's a climb of a mile or so running from a small village called Warnford to Clanfield. It's not a killer climb by any means and since it's mostly single track there isn't much traffic on it.

What I particularly enjoyed about last Sunday's ride was that there had been a hard frost and the road was still white with crisp frost. At 9.30am only a couple of cars had travelled along the road, but mine were the first bike tyre tracks to be left in the frost. It was a clear morning and though the sun was up, the frost had not melted.

When I used to swim competitively I loved being the first to dive into a calm pool (rare since we trained in the evinging after the public had finished and also because I was rarely early for training). Also the few times I went skiing, carving (I expect "ploughing" would be a better description) through virgin snow was always special.

Unfortunately for me I was overhauled by a fully Lycra'd club cyclist who proceeded to sit a few lengths in front of me weaving his full carbon Specialised through the frost. In fairness he daned to acknowledge a fellow cyclist, even one wearing "ordinary trousers" and trainers with a rack on the back.

I got to the top ahead of two more Lycra boys, despite having to pull in at a passing spot to let a van come down. I stopped at the top to admire the view and catch my breath. It's been sometime since I was riding regularly - too much work and a young family are my lame excuses. By the time I turned to cycle back down there was a veritable peleton coming up and the sun had melted the frost. Like an Andy Goldsworthy sculpture, the moment didn't last.