Thanks for my dream bike. The dream lasted about 10 years. You know how it ended: by me hanging up on you mid-sentence. I’ll leave it to whoever else reads this to decide whether or not they’d have done the same thing.
It was in 2011 that I fell for…
Your reproductive role, whether or not you reproduce.
Sugar and spice and everything nice / Snips and snails and puppy-dogs’ tales. Your perceived role in society, formerly synonymous with your sex but now split into potentially unlimited possibilities. Most people still conflate sex and gender. …
Cycling Plus, November 2002
Does anybody really know what time it is?
Does anybody really care?
not quite as published in The Telegraph, 28 July 2014
Boris Johnson only has jurisdiction over me and my bike when I come down to London. Nevertheless, he has the power to make me miserable while I’m there: by taking away my iPod.
Last November, after a series of cyclist…
One day near the end of Reagan’s first electoral reign I left for Europe with barely enough money to sustain my whim.
An airplane is the best way out of the metro area because it leaves you feeling like Phoenix, rising from the ashes of urban blight. As…
Cycling Today, August & September 2000
Every time Frank visited my flat he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the trophy on the mantel. A long-shot in a field of battle-hardened competitors, I’d won it in ’97, before he’d even started commuting. That didn’t extinguish his jealousy. …
Dealing with people in real life is beyond the remit of this advice column. With any luck you won’t meet many, as live human beings are notoriously difficult to hammer into shape. We shall concern ourselves with replying to those in the splendid human construct known as social media.
If it’s the third Monday of the eleventh from the last month of the year (which it isn’t if you look at the date I’ve posted this; we can get past that, right?), it must be Presidents’ Day. George Washington, the proximate cause of George Washington’s Birthday, leads the parade.