Tweed Run report

Tweed Run ladies

“I want an atmosphere, I love a party with a happy atmosphere” – “Atmosphere” Russ Abbot

A mix of bemused tourists and contenders for the Sherlock Holmes look-alike competition gathered outside the RL Rugby store in Covent Garden for last Saturday’s Tweed Run.

Tweed Run, November - Covent Garden

The order of the day was a 13 mile jaunt around London’s sights with 300 other elegantly dressed cyclists stopping for tea and cakes in Knightsbridge. It turns out that wearing tweed is more a state of mind than a garment. Politeness, cap doffing and courteous behaviour were in abundance. A great video can be seen at I Bike London

I didn’t know anyone, but the event was cordial with everyone keen to talk bikes. In fact I was able to identify a few people through their bikes including blogger Lady Velo and chap behind Classic Lightweights.

Classic Pugeot tandem

The event was great for bike spotting. I saw some fantastic examples Peitersen, Motobecane, Paris, an early 50’s Gillot, a Bates Flying Gate, a bright yellow French postbike and a small wheel tandem (a forerunner of the Helios I featured before) were all present. I was hoping to meet another Allin owner, but the closest I found was an Alan. I was secretly pleased to be the only one there.

Dress was fairly formulaic; tweed, brogues, plus fours, garters and moustache. Bow ties, hats, pipes and hip flasks were common accessories. Being “Movember” there were moustaches for the men and seamed stockings were in vogue for the ladies. Ralph Lauren took advantage of the opportunity to throw in plenty of models wearing their kit riding on Pashleys.

Tweed turned out to be a good option for late November. I’d roasted on the train in, but the wind had picked up and I was grateful for the extra warmth. I was also grateful that the recent house moves hadn’t sent my Grandad’s double breasted naval jacket to the charity shop; it’s not tweed, but it didn’t look too out of place.

The end of the ride was a bit of an anti-climax for me after the fun of the start. I didn’t stay for the after-party at the Caledonian Club but I understand that there was dancing to gramophone records and general louche behaviour.

It was a shame it only happens a few times a year. I’ll certainly be looking out for the next run, but how’s this going to branch out? Look for other fabrics? Velvet Velo, Corduroy Cycling Club?

The high points

• great atmosphere at beginning and during the ride
• promoted politeness and considerate cycling behaviour
• friendly people all keen to talk bikes and style
• British eccentricity at its best
• people removing their hats as they rode past the Cenotaph
• well marshalled
• free

 Not so good

• start-stop riding
• being sworn at by pedestrians in Trafalgar Sq.
• finish location was a damp squib; not everyone was able to go to the club
• people riding who hadn’t got much experience of riding bikes in close proximity
• cyclists disregarding red lights
  

  French postmans bike

 

Me with the Allin

 

 

 

Laid-back cruiser bike

Amazing “wooden” concept bike

 

 

 

Stylish prose – Condor Cycles “Past Present Future”

I’d heard about this book from Philip Diprose, editor of The Ride Journal [1]. Although I often work in London, I rarely seem to have time to drop into Condor Cycles. Probably a good thing as their showroom does nothing to abate the sense of envy. I’d only popped in to check on the details of my Condor before it hits eBay for the hoards to pick over [2]

Condor history book "Past Present Future"

My first visit to Condor was about ten years ago and found me gazing through the second hand rack downstairs [3] I spotted a red Condor road bike with Campagnolo Victory components. “How much is this?” I asked “well that’s a bit special” replied the mechanic, “it’s owned by a celebrity”. Who would have known that the godfather of British alternative comedy, Alexei Sayle was not just a keen cyclist, but also a Condor owner? This was my first encounter with the rarefied world of “celebrity cycling”.

Turns out that Dusty Springfield used a Condor tandem to arrive event in London once. Jon Snow commutes on a Condor and Mick Jagger’s owned one. And how do I know all this? Well, these and many more gems of information are all contained in “Past, Present, Future”. There’s also some lavish photography for the frame fetishists.

I recently blogged about bike shops but I struggle to categorise Condor. There’s an element of the “Mecca”. They’re definitely an “address”. The volume of high quality stock puts them close to a “superstore”, but the staff attitude is much friendlier. Whatever they are, it’s worth a browse.

[1] I’m hoping they’ll include an article I wrote about my Ron Cooper and Benotto 3000 bikes in their next issue.

[2] It turns out it was Reynolds 531, as I thought, with custom braze-ons for the cantilever brakes.

[3] Downstairs at Condor is now far too chic to sport a second-hand rack.

Tweed Run update

This Saturday’s Tweed Run is approaching, so I popped into Ralph Lauren’s Rugby store in Covent Garden to collect my “riders pack”.

I was surprised how unfriendly Covent Garden is to cyclists. There’s acres of pedestrian space, but not a bike rack in sight. With no other options, I locked my bike outside the Rugby store’s railing next to a “cycles left here will be removed” sign. I was surprised that the greeter at the door reminded me I couldn’t leave my bike outside – he’s in for a shock on Saturday.

Inside the Rugby store is all wood panelling, wooden ornaments and a few token bikes. According to the A/W2011 catalogue, the clothes have a “preppy look with heritage overtones”. Translation: blazers with embroidered logos, cricket sweaters, pleat-front chinos and brogues. The whole thing reminds me of River Island’s range circa 1988/9, what goes around comes around in fashion.

I was dealt with efficiently by a Gok Wan look-alike who gave me a garish blue and yellow striped musette. Someone in the Ralph Lauren’s marketing team either has an interesting take on style or they’re creating a heritage twist on high-visibility day-glow cycling accessories. I’ll be leaving mine at home: my stubborn side doesn’t like being told what to do, much less what to wear.

And there in lies the dilemma for me. I love the idea of a classic bike ride throughLondon. I love the fact that folks will see that riding bikes isn’t just about wearing lycra. But something grates about a global fashion brand getting in on the act. That said, I’m sure the ride will be a blast.

As wandered past the other Covent Garden stores: Penguin, Fred Perry and Liam Gallager’s latest (retail) fling “Pretty Green”, I began to wonder, what would a bike event sponsored by them look like?

Tour of the Falling Leaves

Around the corner from where I work in London the leaves from the Plane trees have fallen. For a few weeks there’s a beautiful, random autumnal patchwork across the tarmac. It has the feel of a piece by natural sculptor Andy Goldsworthy.

Fallen leaves

I don’t associate urban cycling with “beauty”, but occasionally there are moments. I suppose beauty is transient and that just what the covering on this stretch of road is. A heavy downfall at a busy time of day and it’ll be gone.

Falling leaves marks a decision point for the cyclist. For the professional racer, the Tour of Lombardy [1] is known as “The Tour of the Falling Leaves”. It used to mark the end of the professional season. A chance for those weary riders to put their feet up, get fat and relax until it all started again the following March with the “Primavera”, the Milan-San Remo. The calendar is changing and no longer follows the European seasons. There are more opportunities for year-round racing to appeal to a global audience.

Among the ordinary cyclists, falling leave marks the time to sort the serious from the fair-weather riders. Cycling through the winter requires some dedication and planning. You’ll need to scour the back of the wardrobe for those extra clothes, hats and gloves. Your bike will sprout lights and mud guards. If you’re going to work you’ll notice the bike rack getting emptier and you’ll be scouting out the best radiators to dry your kit on.

[1] I’d love to visit Italy properly. I went on a school ski trip that happened to be in Italy, but apart from the attention the ski instructor paid all the girls, we could have been anywhere. Years ago I bought an old Italian touring book published by the Italian equivalent of the Automobile Association. From this point on I realised that a weekend mini-break isn’t going to hack it: I’d need at least three months and an open-topped sports car.

Does Tweed Run = midlife crisis?

 Two things happened this week. First an eagerly awaited parcel containing a Rouleur musette [1] arrived. Second, I actually met someone who’d heard of the Tweed Run. I’d been a bit sheepish about the whole thing following a conversation at home which took this route.

Me       “What’s happening on Saturday 26^th November?”

Wife     “Why?”

Me       “…er, well there’s this bike ride called the Tweed Run”

Wife     “but you’ll want to go out on Sunday morning too, won’t you?”

Me       “no I won’t ,anyway I’ve got one of 200 invites to this bike ride, you’ve got to have an old bike to go”

Wife     “sounds perfect for you, blokes on obscure vintage bikes…by the way are you having some kind of mid-life crisis?”

Does it really constitute a mid-life crisis? I suppose in the same way as shed envy or over-enthusiasm for allotment growing or bread making it might, but it’s harmless, or so I hope.  The Tweed Run is a gathering of folks in period garb, tweed being the preference, for a bike ride. For bikes, pretty much anything vintage goes: Penny Farthings, old single speeds, vintage racing bikes, clunking roadsters – if it’s old you’re in. The run’s gone global with runs in London, New York, Florence and Tokyo). This event should be a perfect storm as this year marks the 100^th anniversary of Harris Tweed. a fact that hasn’t overlooked the fashion industry, with Ralph Lauren as sponsors.

There’s no strict vetting process, but I’ve developed a handy screener if you’re thinking of going. If you can tick at least three of the following then you’re eligible, five and you really should be there. This list applies to chaps and gals.

• You have facial hair that is not a goatee or designer stubble. A “Movember” moustache doesn’t count
• You are a regular user of a cut throat razor
• You own, or have ever used a pipe [2]
• You consider the style of Sherlock Holmes to have been foolishly overlooked by the world’s fashion houses
• Your hosiery requires suspenders [3]
• Your shirt collars can be detached
• You have been called a “dandy” or a “cad” [4]
• You have heard of the Chap magazine (double tick for a purchase, three ticks if you’re a subscriber)
• You own more than one bike with a steel frame
• You drink tea made in a pot with tea leaves
• You know what an “action back” on a man’s blazer is

Chap magazine awareness, steel bikes and blazer design knowledge get me in. Also being quick of the mark to sign up for one of the 250 places helps.

This will be an exciting opportunity to meet a cycling species I call “Tweedistas”. I’m going to have to blend in with this group which could be tricky as I don’t own Plus Fours or anything made from tweed. The slightest mistake could give me away – hence needing the Rouleur Musette to transport my Box Brownie and Thermos of Earl Grey.

My outfit (or “rig out” as the Welsh would say) will be an 8 button, double breasted wool navy jacket, grey roll neck jumper (think Das Boot, not Val Doonican), brown wool trousers and brown leather ankle boots. The hat is still causing some concern: deerstalker, baker boy, flat cap, bowler, pork pie, pith helmet – it’s a minefield. I now know why girls take so long to get ready.

The bike will of course be the trusty fixed wheel Allin, resplendent in full chrome mudguards and new hand-stitched buffalo leather handlebar covering. So with a hearty “tally ho” and “chocks away” I’ll be on my way to Londinium on the 26th. A typed report in triplicate will follow.

[1] Rouleur is a sort of “thinking man’s cycling magazine” in the same way that Penthouse used to be a bastion of feature writing. Both are just a thin veil of diversion from the true focus of male attention. A “musette” is a cotton bag worn over the shoulder to contain provisions. Racing cyclists are handed these by their back up team during a race.

[2] Containing only tobacco

[3] American readers note, in England trousers are not held up with suspenders. They require a belt and/or braces. Occasionally both, never neither – and that’s the law.

[4] The term “tosser” may have been used by scaffolders

Scalextric velodrome

Unless you’ve been living under a stone, you’ll know that next year is the London Olympics and this Christmas represents a great chance for retailers to ride the wave.

I grew up with Scalextric and there was something predictable about a child’s enthusiasm for fast cars, competition and the track assembly. But Scalextric Velodrome? Have I missed something here?

Scalextric velodrome

I know that cycling’s the new cool. Just rearrange the words “Britain”, “cycling”, “cool”, “hip”, “rediscovering”, “joys” – and you’ve got a ready made story for any feature editor. But there’s something both austere and dramatic (I know it sounds like a contradiction in terms) about track cycling that Scalextric is going to struggle capture.

For a start a velodrome’s basically an oval [1] – so there’s not much scope for experimenting with different courses. Also, unlike the motor racing Scalextric there are no pit stops or crossovers to add to excitement. Granted they’ve put in some chicanes to recreate the shoulder to shoulder stuff of track sprinting.

The British view of track cycling is a fairly austere one, perhaps influenced by television coverage [2] of GB Olympians winning medals at Athens and Beijing. The excitement of a rider on the high banking, supporters banging the advertising boards is something to witness. The British track scene is nothing to that of its continental cousins. In the heyday of the Velodrome D’Hiver in Paris 20,000 spectators were hosted to watch the best cyclists of the day. Prizes were offered by the Rothchilds and the crowd entertained by Edith Piaf. It’s a tough act for Scalextric to recreate.

Beautiful watercolours of the Velo D'Hiver, Paris (from elcyclista.com)

Clearly though, I’m being too cynical. With London 2012 approaching, why shouldn’t the family gather round the Scalextric velodrome. If you need to fill an hour on Christmas Day between the Queen’s Speech and the Bond film rerun, then John Lewis will happily relieve you of £45.

[1] There’s an exciting departure created in 2010 for the Cycling Messenger World Championships. “La Ocho” is a velodrome in a figure-of-eight formation with a fly-over section. There’s a fascinating story behind it at Moving Target

 [2] There’s an inherent problem with watching cycling on TV. It just fails to capture the speed and drama of the discipline. Golf, sailing and motor racing suffer from the same problem. There’s just no substitute for being there.

Super Mario gets Italy back on the right road

Phew, the Eurozone debt crisis is going to be solved, so my paper tells me, by “Super Mario” who took office today. Obviously the technocrat Mario Monti is the man in the frame. For those of us of a two-wheeled persuasion, there could have been a very different outcome. One which could have offered a far more interesting prospect than the of the previous decade of Berlusconi’s stewardship. The “Super Mario” of world champion cycling fame, Snr Mario Cipollini, once announced “if I hadn’t been a professional cyclist, I’d probably have been a porn star”. Well in Italian politics he’d probably be in good company.

Super Mario in action (photo from bigringriding.com)

 So is it really out with the bunga-bunga parties and hair implants and in with the outrageous skin suits? Any man who has the balls to ride a tiger-print skin suit (another peleton nick name was “Il Re Leone” – the Lion King) has to be worthy of consideration. It’s hardly “la bella figura”, but it’s a nice daydream that “Cipo” would take office. What he’d do when he’s in there is anyone’s guess.

Bikes I have not ridden – Circe Helios tandem

I spotted one of these around the corner from where I work in London. That’s a long folding bike I thought, but it doesn’t fold. Then I did a double take. It’s got two seats;  a small wheeled tandem. But how small must the rider at the rear (the “stoker”) be? Then I realised, it’s set up for a child to ride. What a great idea.

Circe Helios family tandem

I should confess an aversion to small wheeled bikes. They’re great for children, but the look out of proportion for adults. [1] [2] [3] I’m not that taken with tandems either. Great for the driver, less fun for the stoker.

Tandems are difficult to store at almost twice the length of a normal bike. They also really need two of you to be on the bike. [4] Bike riding with young children can be tricky too: they don’t have the road sense or stamina for long rides. Bike seats are fine for infants, but older children get bored and don’t fit them. Tag-alongs are good, but kids grow out of them. But this bike makes a lot of sense. Not only does it solve the short comings of tandems but addresses the issues of cycling with children. In addition, there’s something very democratic about the design. It creates a level playing field for the adult rider and the child “stoker” at the back. But the best bit is you’ve got it for life.

 [1] My long-term suspicion of small wheeled bikes has been fuelled by Bromptons

• I can’t respect a bike that looks better folded than assembled. There’s just something aesthetically wrong with that curved top tube.
• There’s an air of smugness among their Inspector Gadget owners. I swear they’re more excited assembling and collapsing their machines than riding them.

 [2] I have to confess I weakened some time ago and made an impulse purchase of a tatty second-hand Moulton Mini. This is the classic “F” frame Moulton but with 12” wheels. I had dreams of restoring her (bease on an article I’d seen on Sheldon Brown’s website), but a shed clear out found her on eBay quicker than you can say “innovative suspension”

[3] I’m a big fan of the footnote ever since I read Nicholson Baker’s “The Mezzanine”

[4] An uncle of mine told me how he used to ride a tandem years ago giving lifts to mates coming back from the pub

A nation of shopkeepers

“L’Angleterre est une nation de boutiquiers.” —Napoleon I

Think of the first time you walked into a bike shop. My memories are the “ding” of the bell above the door. The smell of oil and leather and a glass counter with a man in a brown workshop coat standing behind it.

Inside an Aladdin's Cave (from calamitous annunciation .blogspot.com)

Where you buy your bike says a lot about you; almost as much as the bike itself. These days retailing’s not just about selling products, it’s about “customer experiences”, “retail theatre”, and a “multi-channel experience”. Bike shops aren’t exempt. Just as with bikes themselves, there are many different types of bike shop.

Most towns, suburbs and some villages will boast an “Aladdin’s Cave”. These are the life-blood of mass cycling. If you can get in past the doorway you’ll find a tiny store overflowing with every kind of bike for every kind of cyclist. In the ceiling, frames hang from their drop-outs, a pile of winter clothing jams the rails, two tiers of bikes against the wall with a rack of second hand offers on the pavement outside. A radio will compete with the gentle cursing from the workshop. Their attitude is, “if it’s broken, we can probably fix it. If we haven’t got it, we can order it. If we can’t order it, you don’t need it.”

Then there’s the “Art Gallery”, to be found tucked down quiet metropolitan side streets. The atmosphere is austere, reverential, a cathedral to worship the instruments of suffering. There’s not much to look at: perhaps a few alloy and carbon sculpted components rest on plinths. Maybe a framed jersey from last year’s world champion might be mounted next to a team issue machine. But you won’t be here to browse, more likely a fitting for a custom machine.

A new breed has started to take hold; “The Supermarket”. It’s well staffed, well stocked, well lit, well located, well publicised and …..well ….soulless. Buying a pair of pedals has been made as convenient and about as exciting as buying a pint of milk. The Supermarket is functional, but ultimately sterile.

Finally there’s “The Mecca”. This is an old breed of bike shop that isn’t defined by size or stock level but by it’s location. These stores hold a special place in the cyclists’ heart. Often they’ll have started life as the outlet for a frame builder. Cross their threshold and you’re on hallowed turf. You’ll be leaning over the same counter as the greats of the sport. How many sports can offer that level of connection to its stars? They’ll be known fondly by their address:Greys Inn Road (Condor), Tanners Hill (Witcomb), Stanningley Rd (Bob Jackson), Walton Rd(Harry Quinn) are just a few examples. You’ll know you’re in one of these because somewhere on a wall will be a faded poster or a small signed photo in a frame of one of yester-year’s professionals riding one of their bikes.

I’ve shopped in all of them, but the Aladdin’s Cave is my favourite. Perhaps it’s because my bikes have usually been bought from the second hand rack outside one of them. But despite the resurgence of cycling, many bike shops are feeling the pinch.

So where do you buy your kit? Just think about it when you next click “add to basket”.

Creaking shelves

I’m in my local Waterstones and I’m nosing around the sport section. It’s not a massive store, but I can’t believe how the cycling section now extends across two shelves and even has its own identifier. A few years ago if you’d looked between Wisden’s cricket almanacs and the glossy football annuals you might have found a couple of bike maintenance manuals.

Just how many books on cycling do you need? Photo from bonniesbook.blogspot.com

Recently the publishing world’s gone ga-ga for cycling. Perhaps they’ve realised that cyclists are a fair-weather bunch by and large. Once they’re off the bike they’ve got time on their hands and that represents a marketing opportunity. There are biographies, autobiographies, buying guides, trail guides, histories of the development of the bike, the grand tours, accounts of cycling expeditions and epic climbs are all jostling for attention. Most of the UK’s professional cyclists have written formulaic autobiographies; Chris Hoy, Mark Cavendish, David Millar and Bradley Wiggins are all present.

What’s caught my eye is some of the off-beat cycle publications – faded heroes, the darker side of drug taking in cycling, moments in time, obscure cycling topics and reclusive cyclists (who seem to be drawn to a life on two wheels). Perhaps this is cycling beginning to branch away from it’s fixation with the competitive element. I’ve yet to see cycling break into the philosophy, fiction and design sections but I think it’s just a matter of time. You might think “what’s the need for cycling to break out of the sports section?” but I don’t understand why something that almost everyone can do, that is a child’s right of passage, that is an essential mode of transport for so many isn’t more widely written about. Perhaps that’s why there’s such a proliferation of bike blogging – it’s just filling a much-needed gap.

If I had to name a top 5 for cycling books they’d include

• King of The Mountains, Matt Rendell – who’d have known that drug baron Pablo Escobar had his own private velodrome? It just one of the many fascinating facts about Colombian cycling. Anyone who remembers the awesome climber, Luis Herra should read this.
• Flying Scotsman by Graeme Obree– The subtitle give a clue to the tone: “Cycling to triumph through my darkest hours”. Obree is a fascinating, complex and fragile figure.
• In Search of Robert Millar, Richard Moore –  Again the subtitle gives a hefty clue “Unravelling the mystery surrounding Britain’s most successful Tour de France Cyclist”. To me Millar remains one of British cycling’s most progressive, revered and enigmatic characters. 
• French Revolutions, Cycling the Tour de France, Tim Moore – This remains one of the few funny books about cycling.
• The Rider, Tim Krabbe – One of the most engaging pieces of cycling fiction/reportage. if you don’t understand cycle racing read this book.