Friday, 20 April 2012
You can go your own way
April is kind of like the home straight for a year round cyclist. The shorts slip on, the legs come out, the gloves get put away. Unfortunately, in April it also rains a fair bit so the old waterproofs have been on and off faster than a stripper's knickers. I have also learnt a valuable lesson about cycling clothing this month: don't cycle in cords - a saddle shaped worn patch is neither desirable or attractive*. I have uploaded some new tunes to my phone, including 'Go your own way' the Mac song, sung by Lissie (one of my favourite artists in the last two years).
So worn cords aside, I have been cycling home in slightly better weather, and it's been lighter longer, so big tick for April. The good news about cycling home when it's light is, you can see what's (literally) coming atcha. Not so long ago I was cycling home through one of Leicester's fab parks (I am not going to say which one because that might be counter productive and stop people cycling through there!) and some idiot lads kicked a basketball at me pretty hard as I manouvered my way thorugh them and had gone past by about 20 metres. Luckily (sort of) the ball hit me, not the bike else I probably would have come a cropper. I turned the bike round, cycling back towards them a few yards with the challenge 'What was that for?'. Their answer wasn't particularly polite so I buggered off fairly sharpish. If it had been light, would this have happened? Probably not, because the night time does give people a 'you can't see me' bravado.
Take two, it's last week, it's alot lighter and I'm cycling through a large council estate. Some kids are playing a game which involves chucking a space hopper several metres into the air and cackling with delight as they avoid it on the way down. The kids see me, so I assume they have the same health and safety thoughts as me: 'Let's keep the space hopper on a level until the nice lady cycles by'. Not so. The hopper chucker (technical term) chucks the hopper, and I cycled onwards casually. Around the time that Isaac Newton's law of gravity kicks in, I am on course to be pretty much a direct hit. The space hopper leaves space, and I am forced to take my eyes off the road and fixate them breifly on the large, orange smiley face with devil like horns that is desending on me from the sky. As the space hopper's grinning features get nearer, I manage to pull off some stealthy moves that put me out of range. The kids laugh, I grin back space hopper like, and all is well in the world.
Take the darkness, and the nasty intent out of the situation and it's a whole different ballgame.
I'm not put off from cycling through the park I mentioned first. As Lissie and Fleetwood Mac like to remind us, we can go our own way, or we can be put off by a few cowards taking cover in the dark and trying to spoil a great cycling route.
Tomorrow - an update on the pink pedals...
*and cords don't dry very quickly, so if you don't have a worn patch you'll have a patch and look like cycling excites you a little too much.
Monday, 26 March 2012
Lassoed on the A50
It was supposed to be my day off today, but ended up having to work. And it was the sunniest of sunny days - gutted.
But what’s better than a day off on a sunny day? Easy – the feeling of leaving work after getting stuff done, when it’s still sunny and Friday’s in the air even though it’s Monday.
So I cycled up the cycle path alongside the A50 towards Leicester determined to do something, with my sunny day early release - even if that something involved just sitting in a pub with a pint. But my bike gears keep slipping, usually when I’m ‘standing up in the saddle’ and on the A50 they did so in spectacular fashion, causing me to almost leave the cycle path, cross the grass verge and career onto a busy dual carriageway. I was saved (and nearly killed) by my front brake, which stopped me VERY suddenly, caused the front wheel to propel me forward, bits of bike hitting bits of body. It felt a bit like whiplash and being lassoed at the same time. For the record, I have never been whipped or lassoed*.
The same whiplash/ lasso effect accident happened I cycled out of the Rally, and I had been getting a bit complacement on the cycle in, thinking ooh – gears haven’t slipped for a while. So the something that would’ve been a pint, fast became a ride into Leicester to get my bike looked at by Future Cycles in St Martin’s Square. The very helpful man in the shop explained that my gears were knackered, if fact there were barely any teeth left on ‘em. He priced up replacement parts for me.
But just lately I have been a tiny bit obsessed by buying anything that’s pink metallic to customise my bike (so far only a bottle holder, bell and dust caps – not that obsessed.) Anyway when all these new gears were priced up, I saw the window of opportunity that had opened up – I could get pink metallic stuff – hurrah! And I could pay twice the price for my vanity – double hurrah!
So that something that could have easily been a Yellow Card pint of Fosters in the Soar Point at £2.15 had rapidly become spending more on some fancy pink bits for my bike than a new bike would’ve cost. But I’m such a bike geek that I know it’s worth it.
I walked home from town – YES, WALKED. Earphones in, music on. And the first tune that played? Lasso by Phoenix. TUUUUUUUUNNNNE.
*Though I did work at a rodeo in 2001, probably the coolest job I’ve ever had.
But what’s better than a day off on a sunny day? Easy – the feeling of leaving work after getting stuff done, when it’s still sunny and Friday’s in the air even though it’s Monday.
So I cycled up the cycle path alongside the A50 towards Leicester determined to do something, with my sunny day early release - even if that something involved just sitting in a pub with a pint. But my bike gears keep slipping, usually when I’m ‘standing up in the saddle’ and on the A50 they did so in spectacular fashion, causing me to almost leave the cycle path, cross the grass verge and career onto a busy dual carriageway. I was saved (and nearly killed) by my front brake, which stopped me VERY suddenly, caused the front wheel to propel me forward, bits of bike hitting bits of body. It felt a bit like whiplash and being lassoed at the same time. For the record, I have never been whipped or lassoed*.
The same whiplash/ lasso effect accident happened I cycled out of the Rally, and I had been getting a bit complacement on the cycle in, thinking ooh – gears haven’t slipped for a while. So the something that would’ve been a pint, fast became a ride into Leicester to get my bike looked at by Future Cycles in St Martin’s Square. The very helpful man in the shop explained that my gears were knackered, if fact there were barely any teeth left on ‘em. He priced up replacement parts for me.
But just lately I have been a tiny bit obsessed by buying anything that’s pink metallic to customise my bike (so far only a bottle holder, bell and dust caps – not that obsessed.) Anyway when all these new gears were priced up, I saw the window of opportunity that had opened up – I could get pink metallic stuff – hurrah! And I could pay twice the price for my vanity – double hurrah!
So that something that could have easily been a Yellow Card pint of Fosters in the Soar Point at £2.15 had rapidly become spending more on some fancy pink bits for my bike than a new bike would’ve cost. But I’m such a bike geek that I know it’s worth it.
I walked home from town – YES, WALKED. Earphones in, music on. And the first tune that played? Lasso by Phoenix. TUUUUUUUUNNNNE.
*Though I did work at a rodeo in 2001, probably the coolest job I’ve ever had.
Monday, 27 February 2012
Summer Girls
December and January - on paper it's all been very warm, but in reality there were one or two days that were colder than a witches t*t. I had at least one bike-slides-out-from-under-me-sideways-like-jane-torvill-gone-wrong incident. My route to work is quite hilly, and largely off road so there's not much gritting going on. I just kind of gave up on icy days, safety first and that.
Cycling in general has had something of an early spring, with the Cycling World Cup being held at the new velodrome in London. The velodrome looks fantastic. Still, I am more into watching the road racing myself, the velodrome looks dicier than the black ice I've been skating to work on over the brief winter.
Meanwhile, tunewise I was reminded by the Lyte Funkie Ones that summer is only a couple of seasons away. 'Summer Girls' is the only song I sknow by LFo as they are known. I was about to say that 'Summer Girls' has the worst lyrics of any song ever written, but then I just wikipediad them and found out that the lead singer/songwriter Rich Cronin died a year or so ago of leukaemia aged 36, which is pretty sad, bad lyrics or not. So with the hindsight of not speaking ill of the dead I'll say this - 'Summer Girls' was a tune. It did what it said on the tin, it was a song about Summer and Girls, and everytime I hear it (when I've finished tittering about the lyrics) I get transported back to the Summer of 1999. The lyrics unashamedly reference the 80s and 90s (Home Alone, Footloose, Larry Bird, Kevin Bacon, Abercrombie and Fitch) but it's the opening lines of the chorus which stick out most:
New Kids On The Block,had a bunch of hits
Chinese food makes me sick.
(This is not a song you can sing along to seriously, and Eminem even parodied it in 2000). So anyway, here's to the ice that's gone away thank god, here's to summer which is just around the corner, and most of all here's remembering the late Rich Cronin, who dared to be in a boy band that thought they were a hip hop band and most of all dared to write lyrics about the stuff he liked (and the food he didn't).
Cycling in general has had something of an early spring, with the Cycling World Cup being held at the new velodrome in London. The velodrome looks fantastic. Still, I am more into watching the road racing myself, the velodrome looks dicier than the black ice I've been skating to work on over the brief winter.
Meanwhile, tunewise I was reminded by the Lyte Funkie Ones that summer is only a couple of seasons away. 'Summer Girls' is the only song I sknow by LFo as they are known. I was about to say that 'Summer Girls' has the worst lyrics of any song ever written, but then I just wikipediad them and found out that the lead singer/songwriter Rich Cronin died a year or so ago of leukaemia aged 36, which is pretty sad, bad lyrics or not. So with the hindsight of not speaking ill of the dead I'll say this - 'Summer Girls' was a tune. It did what it said on the tin, it was a song about Summer and Girls, and everytime I hear it (when I've finished tittering about the lyrics) I get transported back to the Summer of 1999. The lyrics unashamedly reference the 80s and 90s (Home Alone, Footloose, Larry Bird, Kevin Bacon, Abercrombie and Fitch) but it's the opening lines of the chorus which stick out most:
New Kids On The Block,had a bunch of hits
Chinese food makes me sick.
(This is not a song you can sing along to seriously, and Eminem even parodied it in 2000). So anyway, here's to the ice that's gone away thank god, here's to summer which is just around the corner, and most of all here's remembering the late Rich Cronin, who dared to be in a boy band that thought they were a hip hop band and most of all dared to write lyrics about the stuff he liked (and the food he didn't).
Monday, 21 November 2011
Sunshine on a rainy day
There was no sunshine at all today. Good news for vampires, Edward from Twilight would be able to wander around merrily without worrying about people noticing the bizarre diamondy stuff on his face. (Fact fans will find a whole discussion about this on Yahoo answers).
On the plus side, there was no rain either - however I cycled to work in a pea soup like fog that I could actually feel dripping on my head now and again. Still, not rain as we know it. So, the fact that Zoe's Sunshine on a Rainy Day came on really had no consequence weatherwise.
So why am I talking about the weather? Because today, is officially the start of the winter cycling season. This is based on two indicators, neither of which are verified by the Met Office:
1) The muffs are on. Yes, my '360'* Cincinatti Bengals ear muffs are on my head whilst cycling and are probably staying there for a while....
2) Speaking of ears, I have red wine coming out of mine. Red wine is to be drunk in winter, and I am in red wine squirreling mode.
Don't get me wrong, this is not something I'm moaning about. This is only my second winter of cycling, and I have a few tried and tested winter cycling 'secrets' now that I'll share shortly. My winter cycling tips have occured as a result of a scene resembling the Steel Magnolias Julia Roberts/ Orange Juice/ hairdresser incident. I came home, just about fainting, close to tears and had to be force fed orange juice Julia Roberts style by my other half, all because it was sooooooo cold.
So now I:
1) Wear gloves that were recommended on a Canadian ice cycling site.*
2) Keeps the muffs on. My muffs were from a nice lady in America from Ebay, but you can get them from Amazon.
3) Keep moving. Clearly you stop if you reach a junction or if an object twice your size appears in your path, but otherwise don't dawdle. Hills are your friends when it's cold, they keep the blood going.
4) Get whoever's waiting for you at home to have a nice cup of tea waiting. If no one's waiting fo you at home, just keep a glass of red wine by the door, so you can neck it when you fall into the house. One of the perks of living alone would be that this is deemed perfectly acceptable to the other non-existent members of your houshold.
Now you're warmed up, it's back to Zoe. Having just watched that youtube vid I can't believe how dated it looks. I have just rediscovered the song thanks to The Orb present impossible oddities 3 CD epic album. My favourite fact about this 1990 (dear god, I was 13!) song is that it was used on the advert for the Amiga 500.
*Clearly I mean '180s'. '360s' would be a headband.
**Wow what a great TV programme this would make. Ice Road Cyclists. I'm in.
On the plus side, there was no rain either - however I cycled to work in a pea soup like fog that I could actually feel dripping on my head now and again. Still, not rain as we know it. So, the fact that Zoe's Sunshine on a Rainy Day came on really had no consequence weatherwise.
So why am I talking about the weather? Because today, is officially the start of the winter cycling season. This is based on two indicators, neither of which are verified by the Met Office:
1) The muffs are on. Yes, my '360'* Cincinatti Bengals ear muffs are on my head whilst cycling and are probably staying there for a while....
2) Speaking of ears, I have red wine coming out of mine. Red wine is to be drunk in winter, and I am in red wine squirreling mode.
Don't get me wrong, this is not something I'm moaning about. This is only my second winter of cycling, and I have a few tried and tested winter cycling 'secrets' now that I'll share shortly. My winter cycling tips have occured as a result of a scene resembling the Steel Magnolias Julia Roberts/ Orange Juice/ hairdresser incident. I came home, just about fainting, close to tears and had to be force fed orange juice Julia Roberts style by my other half, all because it was sooooooo cold.
So now I:
1) Wear gloves that were recommended on a Canadian ice cycling site.*
2) Keeps the muffs on. My muffs were from a nice lady in America from Ebay, but you can get them from Amazon.
3) Keep moving. Clearly you stop if you reach a junction or if an object twice your size appears in your path, but otherwise don't dawdle. Hills are your friends when it's cold, they keep the blood going.
4) Get whoever's waiting for you at home to have a nice cup of tea waiting. If no one's waiting fo you at home, just keep a glass of red wine by the door, so you can neck it when you fall into the house. One of the perks of living alone would be that this is deemed perfectly acceptable to the other non-existent members of your houshold.
Now you're warmed up, it's back to Zoe. Having just watched that youtube vid I can't believe how dated it looks. I have just rediscovered the song thanks to The Orb present impossible oddities 3 CD epic album. My favourite fact about this 1990 (dear god, I was 13!) song is that it was used on the advert for the Amiga 500.
*Clearly I mean '180s'. '360s' would be a headband.
**Wow what a great TV programme this would make. Ice Road Cyclists. I'm in.
Tuesday, 2 August 2011
Dancing Barefoot
Bad luck comes in threes.
Bad Luck Part 1:
Sunday and I am cycling home from Glenfield. At some point there is a high speed collision between my face and a wasps ass. The wasp gets stuck UNDER the strap of my cycle helmet and decided to sting me to let me know this. It hurt. As I am on the verge of tears, a very lost looking Somalian man decided to ask me which way the 'Downtown' area was. I explain through gritted teeth with wasp stung cheeks (this is not a good look like bee stung lips believe me) that he is about 3 miles away and it would be a 40 minute walk. He starts the walk, and I ride home cursing the wasp.
Bad luck part 2:
MOnday, and I cycle to Anstey then walked to Cropston with my family for a few jars and half price steak at the Bradgate Arms. I do not realise that we are taking the cross country route, and my flip flops do not really cut the mustard when walking over fields etc. On the way back I notice I have some bizarre toe pain thing, and my foot knackers the rest of the way. My steak is nice though, if you're after the silver lining.
Bad Luck Part 3.
It's Tuesday and I wake up with extreme toe pain. I cycle to work (cycling, thankfully involves no impact therefore provides releif from toe pain). My Blackberry and Patti Smith work together to make sure that 'Dancing Barefoot' is the first song that is shuffled at me as I ride. It's not even the Alison Moorer version which is an example of a cover superior*. The pain is so bad that when I get to work I cycle to my first meeting (in another office block at the large building where I work - 0.21 miles away accoring to my cyclometer). There's no way I can walk there. At lunchtime I go and see a Foot Specialist in Anstey (by bike of course). I am in such a bad mood now that I don't play music. The jury is still out as to whether the toe is sorted after this visit, as by now I have taken so many painkillers that I would dance barefoot if somebody asked me. At 5:30 I remember that Mr Sainsburys is deliverying our groceries between 6 and 7 so I leggit home. On my return I take a call from a very jolly sounding lady called Trish who tells me that Mr Sainsburys has broken down, and will not make it to us until 9pm.
Dinner is reduced drastically from the planned Seafood Gumbo, to frozen cod, chips and peas. The peas are currently residing on my toe to try and reduce the swelling.
*Cover superior - when a cover version of a song outshines the original. Doesn't happen very often but examples include Jeff Buckley's cover of Leonard Cohen's 'Hallelujiah' and (arguably) Eva Cassidy's cover of Fleetwood Mac's 'Songbird'. Incidentally, many people think that these versions are the originals, and don't realise they are covers.
Bad Luck Part 1:
Sunday and I am cycling home from Glenfield. At some point there is a high speed collision between my face and a wasps ass. The wasp gets stuck UNDER the strap of my cycle helmet and decided to sting me to let me know this. It hurt. As I am on the verge of tears, a very lost looking Somalian man decided to ask me which way the 'Downtown' area was. I explain through gritted teeth with wasp stung cheeks (this is not a good look like bee stung lips believe me) that he is about 3 miles away and it would be a 40 minute walk. He starts the walk, and I ride home cursing the wasp.
Bad luck part 2:
MOnday, and I cycle to Anstey then walked to Cropston with my family for a few jars and half price steak at the Bradgate Arms. I do not realise that we are taking the cross country route, and my flip flops do not really cut the mustard when walking over fields etc. On the way back I notice I have some bizarre toe pain thing, and my foot knackers the rest of the way. My steak is nice though, if you're after the silver lining.
Bad Luck Part 3.
It's Tuesday and I wake up with extreme toe pain. I cycle to work (cycling, thankfully involves no impact therefore provides releif from toe pain). My Blackberry and Patti Smith work together to make sure that 'Dancing Barefoot' is the first song that is shuffled at me as I ride. It's not even the Alison Moorer version which is an example of a cover superior*. The pain is so bad that when I get to work I cycle to my first meeting (in another office block at the large building where I work - 0.21 miles away accoring to my cyclometer). There's no way I can walk there. At lunchtime I go and see a Foot Specialist in Anstey (by bike of course). I am in such a bad mood now that I don't play music. The jury is still out as to whether the toe is sorted after this visit, as by now I have taken so many painkillers that I would dance barefoot if somebody asked me. At 5:30 I remember that Mr Sainsburys is deliverying our groceries between 6 and 7 so I leggit home. On my return I take a call from a very jolly sounding lady called Trish who tells me that Mr Sainsburys has broken down, and will not make it to us until 9pm.
Dinner is reduced drastically from the planned Seafood Gumbo, to frozen cod, chips and peas. The peas are currently residing on my toe to try and reduce the swelling.
*Cover superior - when a cover version of a song outshines the original. Doesn't happen very often but examples include Jeff Buckley's cover of Leonard Cohen's 'Hallelujiah' and (arguably) Eva Cassidy's cover of Fleetwood Mac's 'Songbird'. Incidentally, many people think that these versions are the originals, and don't realise they are covers.
Saturday, 23 July 2011
After hours
I have been working late quite a lot lately. This means that in order to get home in time to cook tea, I need to whiz by a particular supermarket on a particular council estate on my way home (it's best not to name either the supermarket OR the council estate for fear of retribution). I have to do all this in record time. I cannot pass go. I cannot dawdle. I must know what I want and remove it swiftly form the shelves and into my basket and pay the nice lady on the till.
This particular evening (not overuse of word 'particular') I am cycling home on the work's Brompton (yes we have an office bike - all the jokes have been done, beleive me). The Brompton stands out somewhat in this neighborhood. Imagine a hog roast at a Bar Mitzvah and you have some idea. I leave the supermarket and head to the Brompton.
"Is that one of them folding bikes?" a man asks, both him and his Staffordshire Bull Terrier trying to make eye contact. "Yes it is," I reply, eyes firmly engaged on Kryptonite bike lock.
"Are you trying to get fit?" He asks.
"Something like that." I reply, with a lighten the mood girly laugh.
"Why - has someone told you that you're fat?".
I have one leg over the office bike. "No." (again a lighten the mood smile).
Staffie owner suddenly looks mad. "Have they?" he growls. "Has someone told you you are fat?". He looks very angry. He looks like he wants to defend me against the person that's called me fat, except no-one's called me fat and he doesn't even know me anyway.
I reassure this complete stranger nutjob that no-one has told me I'm fat, and scoot away on the Brompton. "Becuase you're not, you know!!" he shouts after me. I am relieved, not by nutjob's 'not fat' claim, but by the fact the Brompton and I have escaped. I ride home out of the council estate, through middle class suburbia,and out of the other side blending in as best someone who now feels slightly chubby and is on a very small bike can.
On the way I listen to 'After hours' by We are Scientists. It is 'After hours' and I'm late home again, but at least I've got a funny story to tell when I get there...
This particular evening (not overuse of word 'particular') I am cycling home on the work's Brompton (yes we have an office bike - all the jokes have been done, beleive me). The Brompton stands out somewhat in this neighborhood. Imagine a hog roast at a Bar Mitzvah and you have some idea. I leave the supermarket and head to the Brompton.
"Is that one of them folding bikes?" a man asks, both him and his Staffordshire Bull Terrier trying to make eye contact. "Yes it is," I reply, eyes firmly engaged on Kryptonite bike lock.
"Are you trying to get fit?" He asks.
"Something like that." I reply, with a lighten the mood girly laugh.
"Why - has someone told you that you're fat?".
I have one leg over the office bike. "No." (again a lighten the mood smile).
Staffie owner suddenly looks mad. "Have they?" he growls. "Has someone told you you are fat?". He looks very angry. He looks like he wants to defend me against the person that's called me fat, except no-one's called me fat and he doesn't even know me anyway.
I reassure this complete stranger nutjob that no-one has told me I'm fat, and scoot away on the Brompton. "Becuase you're not, you know!!" he shouts after me. I am relieved, not by nutjob's 'not fat' claim, but by the fact the Brompton and I have escaped. I ride home out of the council estate, through middle class suburbia,and out of the other side blending in as best someone who now feels slightly chubby and is on a very small bike can.
On the way I listen to 'After hours' by We are Scientists. It is 'After hours' and I'm late home again, but at least I've got a funny story to tell when I get there...
Thursday, 9 June 2011
Be my Yoko Ono
Oh the Barenaked Ladies, what a fabulously humourous and talented bunch of Canadians they are, and how much am I looking forward to seeing them at Hard Rock Calling in a couple of weeks...
This is another one that gets me bike dancing, head bobbing, shoulders going as I zoom home on my new Schwalbe Marathon tyres courtesy of the Bike Park in Leicester!
If you haven't heard this song before - check out the video and while you'll there check out this random song, which was supposed to be 'Yoko' until the YouTube poilce hunted them down - captions are rather funny...
(By the way, this song is worth a listen for the mad yodelling part alone).
Back to cycling, and as I arrived home this evening I saw two lads in shirts and ties chaining their bikes together on the corner. Hold on, young, smartly dressed men on bikes....this can only mean...MORMONS! The Yoko song has a line that's: 'To have you hanging off my ankle like some kind of ball and chain' and frankly it reminds me of these lads. I have lost count of the times these two have chained their little* bikes up at the end of the road and gone a knockin' on people's doors. I wonder, do they knock on the same doors every week? Do people give them shit? How does it feel to have a door slammed in your face? Do they feel like Yoko Ono did?
Still, this is Leicester, a city of religious tolerance of course. And by my own defintion of religious tolerance I mean an inward roll of the eyes detectable only to those who know me closey, and not answering the door to mormons etc, cos it's better to ignore than offend. And by etc I also mean those dirty looking gentlemen selling unecessary plastic items too...
*for 'little' read normal sized mountain bikes actually.
Follow @leicesterlizzie
This is another one that gets me bike dancing, head bobbing, shoulders going as I zoom home on my new Schwalbe Marathon tyres courtesy of the Bike Park in Leicester!
If you haven't heard this song before - check out the video and while you'll there check out this random song, which was supposed to be 'Yoko' until the YouTube poilce hunted them down - captions are rather funny...
(By the way, this song is worth a listen for the mad yodelling part alone).
Back to cycling, and as I arrived home this evening I saw two lads in shirts and ties chaining their bikes together on the corner. Hold on, young, smartly dressed men on bikes....this can only mean...MORMONS! The Yoko song has a line that's: 'To have you hanging off my ankle like some kind of ball and chain' and frankly it reminds me of these lads. I have lost count of the times these two have chained their little* bikes up at the end of the road and gone a knockin' on people's doors. I wonder, do they knock on the same doors every week? Do people give them shit? How does it feel to have a door slammed in your face? Do they feel like Yoko Ono did?
Still, this is Leicester, a city of religious tolerance of course. And by my own defintion of religious tolerance I mean an inward roll of the eyes detectable only to those who know me closey, and not answering the door to mormons etc, cos it's better to ignore than offend. And by etc I also mean those dirty looking gentlemen selling unecessary plastic items too...
*for 'little' read normal sized mountain bikes actually.
Follow @leicesterlizzie
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