Not a bad little piece I thought:

Boris’ article

I think this title should be more along the lines of ‘Bike sacrifices life in attempt to rid the world of insufferable Boris’

Not a Boris fan by any stretch of the imagination, but that was a well written thing.

Thanks for posting it.

Yep, enjoyed reading that. Can’t help but winner what will be next in the bike line as well…

Nothing was obviously broken or even bent, but as we went along it made a terrible mewling noise, like some stricken animal, and when I turned one way or the other the rear wheel would lurch in the opposite direction, as if it objected to the very principles of my leadership. It was like trying to run a coalition with the Lib Dems.

😆 Pretty funny for a tosspiece.

This is my road, a Transport for London road, serviced to the most exacting standards. To steer round a little pool of rainfall was not only wimpy; it was positively disrespectful to the superb roads-maintenance team in our Surface Transport division.

😀

It was always game and obedient, and I swear it sometimes wagged its rear mudguard when it saw me coming.

😀

Yeah I enjoyed reading that, cheers!

He seems to be unbothered as to what most people think of him, and I’m sure he can have a laugh at himself?
London could probably do a lot worse.

What sort of bike is it?

Thanks for the post, interesting he doesn’t think the fact that the pothole has destroyed his bike is a problem. Also reference other thread about claiming for car damage from the council. FYI we’ve had two tyres written off in an unrepaired pothole/puddle and made zero progress on getting the council to pay.

Article forwarded to Cy at Cotic

Great article, I enjoyed that, thanks. 😀

I’m guessing a fold up, made in California, can’t be many options? Google image search could reveal the answer? Thought it quite nicely demonstrated (rather eloquently) how attached you can become to a bike, or other tool/workhorse.

Looks like a marin

2005 Fairfax?

I love this, start to finish.

“I wonder how deep that puddle is, I said to myself, as Old Bikey whizzed me nearer. I wondered whether I should steer round it; and then I thought, nah. This is my road, a Transport for London road, serviced to the most exacting standards. To steer round a little pool of rainfall was not only wimpy; it was positively disrespectful to the superb roads-maintenance team in our Surface Transport division.

So I clapped my spurs to the side of the machine, and pointed it straight to the bit that seemed darkest and most sinister – and, as ever, Old Bikey lunged forward with joyful acceleration. You may vaguely remember the story of the Lacus Curtius, the mysterious and terrifying pit that opened up in the Roman forum, and how some young buck decided to save the city by leaping into it, fully armed, on a horse.

Well, I think I know how he felt. Down, down, down went the front wheel for what seemed like a very long time, before jack-knifing on some storm drain or sunken U-boat or other obstruction at the bottom; and then, sploof, I went over the handle bars before making brief but thorough contact with the wet tarmac; and, boing-oing-oing, I bounced up again – as we old rugby players have learnt to do – a millisecond before the taxi behind me could organise a swift election, and I had taken the bike off the road to assess the damage. “

Also, “It’s time for a British bike”- what, like all those Boris Bikes you imported? 😉