AN APPROPRIATE BICYCLE - Pt.18: DEBUT IN LYCRA

The Romani is now in my possession and I’ve already covered some ground on it, fixed Kryptonite’s bizarre FlexFrame U-bracket to the down-tube, raised the handlebars by a whole 2 cm, exchanged the firm saddle it came with for the Vetta Gel off of the Carlos, raised the seat-tube a couple of inches and then lowered it again by about one. The early signs are good and I suspect that buying this bike was absolutely the right thing to do.

I asked my cadres to provide some information for my readers, like you sometimes get in real life sporting publications, such as Shoot magazine. I wanted to create profiles of sorts so to get a feel for the various personalities that race for Carlos-Weltschmerz. See what you think:

Name: James Evans (that’s me)

Age: 37

Bike:  Carlos Tours Romani Prestige

Race Jersey: La Vie Claire

Giro, Tour or Vuelta? Vuelta

Preferred theatre of Second World War (assuming one partook in it, and regardless of the risk of mortality): North African Campaign - leave in Cairo

Preferred meteorological conditions (not for cycling; just in general): 28°C, overcast, no breeze, humid, with the portent of storms

Hypothetical ride-on music (like they do in the darts and snooker): Fit and Working Again - The Fall

Favourite 'ism': Constructivism

What are you reading? The Anatomy of Melancholy by Richard Burton.

Name: Simon A C Evans
Age: 34
Bike: Gary Fischer Hybrid
Race Jersey: Bic or Café de Colombia
Giro, Tour or Vuelta? Tour
Preferred theatre of Second World War: North Atlantic Convoy
Preferred meteorological conditions: Heavy Rain when on a veranda or shed with an open door, to give the feeling that I am undercover but still outside
Hypothetical ride-on music: I Can't Do Nuttin For Ya Man – Public Enemy
Favourite 'ism': Cubism
What are you reading? Steady State Economics by Herman Daly.

Name: Peter Gowland

Age: 38

Bike: Bianchi C2C

Race Jersey: PDM-Concorde

Giro, Tour or Vuelta? Paris-Roubaix

Preferred theatre of Second World War: Western Front - Normandy

Preferred Meteorological conditions: August, Ibiza - hot and dry

Hypothetical ride on music: No music: spoken word - Al Pacino's 'inches' speech from Any Given Sunday

Favourite 'ism': Atheism – f**k God and the horse he rode in on

What are you reading: Bounce: The Myth of Talent and the Power of Practice by Matthew Syed.

Name: William Mommersteeg

Age: 43

Bike: Bianchi Reparto Course Condor Squadra

Race Jersey: St. Raphael

Giro, Tour or Vuelta? Tour

Preferred theatre of Second World War: Burma

Preferred meteorological conditions: 30°C and sun shining

Hypothetical ride-on music: Rock n' Roll - Led Zeppelin

Favourite 'ism': Favouritism

What are you reading? Chinaman by Shelhan Karunatilaka.

Name: Ben Wenborn

Age: 35

Bike: Specialized Roubaix

Race Jersey: Château D'ax Gatorade

Giro, Tour or Vuelta? Giro

Preferred theatre of Second World War: The Mediterranean - naval campaigns around Malta/Gibraltar/Suez Canal

Preferred meteorological conditions: Dark 'n' stormy

Hypothetical ride-on music: Can't Touch This - MC Hammer

Favourite 'ism': Laxism

What are you reading? Ubik by Philip K Dick.

It was Mr Mommersteeg who was proving to be the most receptive to this whole London to Brighton project (although everybody was committed by way of registration). He – as my neighbour – was knocking on my door to see if I wanted to go for a ride. I did, and so we did.

            It was a Saturday, and the weather was good: a stiff breeze but the sun was out, with an ambient temperature of approximately 15°C – usual for the time of year and a marked improvement on the unseasonably cold and wet and dank conditions that have persisted through February, March and the beginning of April. We set off towards Wimbledon, by way of Kingston, New Malden and Raynes Park, in good spirits.

            The night before I’d alerted my co-conspirators of our intent, knew that it was late notice and expected little in the way of a response. I was pleasantly surprised, then, to see that Mr Wenborn had replied to my email and was open to the possibility of joining Mommersteeg and I in Wimbledon.

Somewhere along the B282 – West Barnes Lane by another name – I received a telephone call from Wenborn and impressed myself with the dexterity with which I unzipped the top pocket of my Mavic technical jacket, extricated my mobile phone, answered it, and proceeded to discuss estimated times of arrival with the caller, all the while maintaining a reasonable speed. Wenborn would indeed be joining us and I’d finally be able to begin the process of team bonding.

            We discussed bicycles over coffee and then headed off towards Wandsworth, by way of Tooting Broadway. We then made towards Putney before following the Thames to Hammersmith, whereupon we crossed to the north side of the river – its south facing aspect open to the sun’s glare – and paused for a pint.

            Thereafter we moved back south, cycled to Barnes Bridge and repeated the procedure. Over that second alcoholic beverage, cycling attire was to be the topic of conversation – what jerseys we had; should one wear a second, looser pair of shorts over their lycra; what did I think of white cycling shoes – and I was pleased that my domestiques appreciated that these things matter. Not everyone does.

Mommersteeg and I covered approximately 23 miles that day, albeit fractured with coffee and booze. It signalled the start of my training regime, though, and that was important. After having hit some good form about half of the way through February, I’d since lost it again, the cumulative effect of bad weather, full-time work, a niggling shoulder injury and too many social commitments.

            I followed this up with a 16 mile ride on Monday, a 28 mile ride on Thursday  and a couple of 4 mile round commutes to work in-between – about 75 miles in all. This is no big deal: Mommersteeg and Wenborn ride about the same distance week in, week out on their respective commutes to work. An anticipated period of reduced working hours should allow me to establish a similar routine.

The 28 mile ride is worthy of note because it represented the first time I’d dressed in full kit – my debut in Lycra, if you will. I wore the Descente cycling jersey, my cycling shorts and race socks in temperatures touching 20°C, and found the experience strangely exhilarating, like I had some sort of extra power that I could impose on people that got in my way – like I might be taken more seriously. This illusion was slightly dented by the absence of any helmet, for serious cyclists are apt to wear protective headgear at all times. I could have done with some sunglasses too, but I don’t really like things in and around my face, which is why helmets have featured so lowly on my list of priorities. This might sound reprehensible, but consider this: I’ll take more risks when I'm finally wearing a lid, in situations that I presently ease up on – like descending.

My ride took me through Richmond, Putney, Wandsworth and Battersea, and paused in Waterloo at Evans Cycles to return those Altura “mitts” after I’d recently observed the stitching coming away in the area betwixt my thumb and forefinger. On inspecting the same style glove in-store I concluded that the issue was anomalous and that my particular pair of fingerless gloves had not been properly appended in the first instance. However, my enthusiasm for them had now waned and I decided that I would replace them with something more modern. This was not because of any perceived weakness attributable to the style but more to do with a fondness for anachronism. The flavour of my bike and my race get-up has an undeniably retrospective feel, but my motive is not parodic and I’d like to offset some of these traditional aspects with a more contemporary edge. There will be my cycling shorts, the accessories attached to my bike, a helmet (eventually), and now there will also be my new gloves: I've ordered a pair of white Mavic Espoir ‘everyday race gloves’ offering ‘progressive cushioning’ from another on-line cycle store – Hargroves Cycles – for the meagre sum of £14, with free postage, reduced from £20.

In the meantime, I've secured that La Vie Claire jersey. My birthday’s coming up and I dropped noisy hints in the company of my lady-friend. Naturally, she obliged, although I will have to wait a month or so before I can wear it.

            I've sold that Carlos-Galli jersey too, so now I can run with my ‘trinity of jerseys’ theory. The La Vie Claire jersey, along with those of my contemporaries – Café de Colombia, PDM-Concorde, St. Raphael and Château D'ax Gatorade – leads me to believe that Carlos-Weltschmerz could well be the smartest looking team in the peloton.

AN APPROPRIATE BICYCLE - Pt. 15: MORE THOUGHTS ABOUT JERSEYS

My father once asked me – almost apropos of nothing – whether I held truck with the concept of fate. I dismissed the notion – must have done, because although I don’t specifically recall what I offered in reply, I do remember my old man telling me that ‘greater minds’ than mine had deemed the idea worthy of their consideration, as well as being a little put out that he was satisfied that there were indeed greater minds than mine. I knew there to be greater minds than mine, or course – far, far greater – but how could my sire be so sure? It was reasonable for him to surmise that there probably were minds far greater than mine, but I think I resented that he should so obviously think it a full gone conclusion. It wasn't so much that my mind in anyway bordered on greatness (I was in my late teens – how could it?) but the absoluteness of having that statement directed towards me – ‘greater minds than yours’ – seemed, at the very least, to ruthlessly depose the idea that in the future my mind may very well develop into one of the greatest minds of them all. But no, in one foul phrase the limits of my genius had been set. It may well turn out that I was a particularly clever chap, but I’d never possess the faculty to legitimately rationalize the possibility that fate plays a part in everybody’s lives. To make the matter worse, I’d admitted as much myself.

            It’s probable that I had no opinion on the subject whatsoever. Moreover, I overcame the certitude that my father didn't think I’d cut it as one of the key thinkers of my generation in approximately 3 seconds: I didn't consider my mind to be in any way “great” so why should he? I was just a sullen teenager who thought their father couldn't possibly know one way or another how exceptional their son’s mind was or wasn't (I’ll stand by that assertion) and that he was merely being a little premature with statements like ‘greater minds than yours’ (but not that one).

But later, when I had the space to mull it over, I did have a go at pontificating on the subject of fate, if only to allow for the possibility that my mind could very well be great after all. I came to the conclusion that the question was moot, for if one supposed that either possibility could be true then the outcome was the same in either case: we had either reached the current way of things because it was predestined, or we had reached the current way of things because they weren't. Ergo, if fate had a hand in our affairs then it also had hand in free will, the ability to challenge and question fate, and to seal fate’s own fate: free will was predetermined and at the same time fate was vulnerable to the vagaries of free will.

I talk of fate because of the various dilemmas I've been faced with whilst gazing at cycling jerseys on eBay. I possess two jerseys, you may recall, but I've peered into the future and concluded that this number will not suffice. I like the idea that three might be about right because then I’d introduce the concept of a ‘trinity of jerseys’ and hope the phrase caught on. I’d like that cyclists might talk of their own personal trinities, or that older riders would reminisce and decide which three jerseys were their favourites – what would constitute their ‘Holy Trinity’, if you like. It would become common parlance among the cycling community, and journalists in the field would ask professional cyclists to name their Holy Trinity, normally at the end of the interview because they wouldn't be sure whether the interviewee would take to the idea or not. At first Bradley Wiggins would assume the interviewer to be making reference toward his fondness for Mod inspired clobber, but, once assured that the concept was genuine, would quite get into it. Mark Cavendish would take to it at once. David Millar would ponder the question as if he’d been asked something rather lofty. Chris Froome would stare in bemusement and wonder what the point was of asking such a thing.

Having decided that two jerseys was definitely NOT enough, and that three might help me make myths, I set about appropriating my third – my Holy Spirit. Given that my existing jerseys differ significantly, I began to ponder what form a third should take and in doing so came to the conclusion that I would need to select from among the following taxonomies:

1 – The Woollen Jersey: There’s something very appealing about an old woollen jersey. Search out pictures of the annual L’Eroica, in which bikes and attire are required to be of a certain age, and one will get a feel for what I'm talking about it: the designs tend to be cleaner, less ostentatious, and more functional, yet oddly colourful.

One’s woollen jersey – should you choose to acquire one – will preferably be a genuine race edition. The less imaginative among us will ape legends Jacques Anquetil and Eddy Merckx, and buy replica Bic and Molteni jerseys in respective homage. Others might fare a little better and wear Faema, Peugeot or Mercier across their chests. The innovators will be those who find examples of the real thing, down weekend markets or in high-street charity shops – or on eBay. Typically, these jerseys will comprise of three or maybe four colours, often broken up into horizontal or vertical stripes. Any sort of graphic is rare and if present will be presented in the same manner as the flock lettering – the detail is rarely printed or sewn on. More obscure team sponsors include Gan, Gelati-Sanson, Miko, and many more unknown.

Whichever way you approach it, one could argue that every cycling enthusiast should have a woollen jersey within their repertoire.

[A typical gathering of jerseys at L'Eroica ]

  

2 – Contemporary Team Kit (with caveats): There are plenty of pleasing jerseys in the modern peloton – just be mindful of the fact that you’re not stuck in there racing with them. If you must wear modern team kit then take care to whom you pledge allegiance. For obvious reasons, replica Team Sky kit is to be avoided. Omega Pharma-Quick Step would have been considered permissible last year but Mark Cavendish has recently joined them and one should proceed with caution. Weirdly, Garmin Sharp kit is probably okay, even with David Millar still propping up their ranks (or maybe because David Millar is still propping up their ranks). The idea here is to avoid being seen as a “fan” of some of exclusively British elements of modern cycling – this isn't football. 

National colours and national champion jerseys are best avoided too, unless you go for something unusual, like the impressive Lithuanian effort for 2013.

3 – 1980s Team Kit: If you want team kit that isn't classic, woollen and pre-mass market, then it is to this supposedly low point in collective taste that one must turn. In fact, the 1980s wasn't the aesthetic disaster that frivolous, retrospective, televisual pseudo documentaries would have you believe, and the cycling jerseys of the period are a case in point: Super U Raleigh, Café de Colombia, PDM-Concorde, La Vie Claire, Renault-Elf – the list is extensive and it’s probably only a matter of time before I succumb to this era’s charm.

4 – The Faux-Classic Racing Jersey: There will be those who will balk at the thought of wearing wool, and they are beyond hope. But there are some people who think that the wearing of (replica) team kit should be set aside for members of a team, and I have a degree of sympathy with this position. The team jersey pastiche allows such folk to look good without having to compromise this conviction. Solo’s Classique range is a firm example of this kind of jersey, and Morvelo have made positive a contribution too. Rapha and Le Coq Sportif have produced worthy efforts, but the best shirts probably come from De Marchi. The only downside to this model is that you normally pay big bucks for the privilege.

5 – Club Colours: I'm not a big fan but there are certainly some decent club jerseys out there, even if they are in the distinct minority. I assume my Descente jersey to be a club jersey of sorts – or a work’s team at the very least – and I'm very fond of my understated Descente jersey. I think that’s probably the key to a successful shirt of this ilk: less is more. Also, wearing a club jersey when you’re not even a member of the club in question has a whiff of subversion about it – and that’s a good thing.

I embraced the possibility of buying a 1980s team jersey and an authentic woollen one in about equal measure – it would come down to whichever opportunity arose first. Initially it seemed like the 1980s was going to win. I outbid someone bidding for a rare Vermarc Sport Tonissteiner Euro Tour Team jersey and it was mine for the princely sum of £4.50. Unfortunately, it turned out to be chronically small, and I would have had a row over the measurements the seller listed if he hadn't instantly offered a full refund, the cost of his postage included (it still cost me a couple of quid to send it back, but these are the fortunes of eBay).

            Next, I turned to Prendas Ciclismo and their excellent range of replica team kit inspired by season’s past. It was only the price of such shirts that had prohibited me from buying from them sooner, but now they were selling a PDM-Concorde jersey at a reduced price. Again, the thing turned out too small, and the next size up was sold out. They gave me a full refund and provided a first rate service throughout.

It was a case of third time lucky, and it was a woollen vestment that turned up trumps. White and almost fluorescent green with black trim, it’s an old Caisse D’Epargne team jersey, Caisse D’Epargne being a French bank that endorses a pro-cycling team to this very day. I like how the wool feels: warmer, more relaxed than the modern fabric that my other jerseys are made from.

And no sooner had I received the thing and I saw a Carlos-Galli jersey selling on eBay, and low on takers. This is what I mean by alluding to the notion of fate: eBay never stands still and one search invariably leads to another: a jersey is found, a bid is placed, and then a rival bidder might intervene, which in turn may oblige one to look elsewhere. What search will you have typed in that day? Has the seller of your dream jersey grasped the concept of search engine optimisation and listed their product in a way that will help you find it? Do you even have the time to conduct a thorough search before somebody sneaks in and buys that 7-Eleven team jersey you've set your heart on – or are you even so inclined to look in the first instance? And so it goes, and it’s impossible to tell where this will lead, and in what direction. A small alteration of the past can change the way a man thinks about things, with various consequences.

Take it further: if it hadn't been raining on Sunday 29^th July I probably wouldn't have found myself indoors, glued to the 2012 Olympic women’s road race. If I hadn't been so entranced by that then I wouldn't have picked that moment in time to look for road-bicycles Gumtree. If I hadn't spotted some guy living not two miles from me selling a Raleigh Record Ace, or if I’d left it an hour later and his other potential customer had bought the thing (and as it was I hesitated for about 45 minutes before making the call), then my enthusiasm for road-cycling might have waned and who knows when, or if, I would have committed to buying a road-bike. But I did buy it, which resulted in me selling it and having to wait for the transaction to be completed before finding a replacement. Had that gone through quicker, then I could have ended up with a Peugeot instead of a Carlos, and if I hadn't been acquainted with Carlos then Carlos-Weltschmerz would not have come into being and I might be riding for Peugeot-Saudade (©) instead. And what sort of jersey would I have searched for on eBay then?

I looked into numerology and the significance that the number 4 might hold. Turns out that 4 is the number of fate, and to associate with it is to understand that some things are beyond one’s control. ‘Four’ is also supposed to symbolise the principle of putting ideas into form, and of expressing knowledge – or wisdom.

[POST-SCRIPT: I actually ended up bidding on a second-hand, but very new looking, replica La Vie Claire jersey on eBay too, and was convinced that I would win, my maximum bid far out-reaching what was on the table with just minutes of the auction left to run. I set my limit at something like £30 (the cost of shipping seemed excessive to me, at £3.99, otherwise I may have gone even higher). The jersey went for £32. Prendas Ciclismo sell them new for £49.95 – it made little sense. Sometimes it’s only when you come close to getting something, but don’t, that you realise just how much you wanted it. If I was full-time employed I’d probably just go straight to Prendas.

            And it should go without saying that I feel obliged to bid for the Carlos-Galli top, although to not do so would be perversely un-fatalistic. And so I have – I submitted a maximum bid of £17.02, rounding up to £20 when the postage is taken into account. So if I win that, and I do manage to get my hands on a ‘La Vie Claire’, then I’ll be left with five jerseys, and that’s not going to help me in establishing my trinity theory of jersey ownership. God forbid I should ever find a 7-Eleven shirt going for a reasonable rate. I think the situation is getting a little out of hand.]