Just finished reading Emily Chapman’s endearing and revealing account of her time navigating London’s streets as a cycling courier. ‘Coming Around Again’ was a great read. The irony of enjoying the book while riding cattle class on the tube was not lost on me.
Category: Cycling
‘f*** off and die’
As a daily cyclist in London, I witness an increasing number of disputes on the road, so this story may have passed my by.
But this dispute between Boris Johnson and a black taxi driver has helped to highlight an issue which will have great impact on London’s roads. The issue relates to the growth of the uber app, which allows people to hail a cab and agree a fare using their phone. The app is free to download and, when accessed, shows all the Uber-accredited cars in a user’s vicinity. To hail one, users just tap on a car that is close by, jump in, and at the end of the ride their card is debited automatically. Rates are considerably lower than in a black cab and are calculated according to how far a passenger travels and how long his or her journey takes.
Round and round and round again
Well as a sporting achievement, it’s mightily impressive. But as a TV event, it passed me by completely.
What you want from a sporting contest – drama, controversy, swaying emotions and an unknown outcome – were largely missing. Wiggins actually lived close to me during his school days. I can’t recall ever coming across him – I think I would have remembered a lyrca-clad youngster dodging traffic on Kilburn High Road. Unless you’ve lived under a stone for the last few years, you wouldn’t have missed his much repeated catchphrase that ‘Kids from Kilburn aren’t supposed to win the Tour de France’. I would actually claim that his nan’s house where he lived during his school days is actually closer to affluent Maida Vale but I guess ‘middle class privately educated boy winning the tour’ would not have the same ring to it.
‘They’re a bunch of mercenaries….’
The mantra amongst all cyclists seems to be ‘support your local bike shop, and avoid the retail chains’.
So when my chain jumped away from the chain teeth got itself wrapped around the crank arm on the way home from work, I ambled off to a LBS in the Angel. I’m useless when it comes to maintaining my bike and fixing the such routine problems such as a puncture. Once, in the middle of a shower, and suffering from a back tyre puncture, I hailed a taxi to take myself and bike to a bike shop near Old Street.