Hitting 40 in Style

I didn’t want to be 40. I mean really didn’t. Only a new bike could ease my pain. But which bike? I didn’t need another road bike, didn’t want an MTB, and my bit of Sussex isn’t exactly fixie-friendly. What I really wanted, I concluded, was something different; a machine to make me fall properly in love with cycling again.

I’d seen the Pashley Guv’nor reviewed online that summer and been unable to get it out of my head. It was eccentric, anachronistic and wildly impractical, but there was something about its blithe disregard for fashion and convention I found oddly compelling. I sensed a kindred spirit. Slowly, subtly, almost without my knowing it, a process of reinvention had begun. When I saw it at the Bike Show in October, any lingering doubts evaporated. The Guv’nor was gloriously eccentric, yet imposing, elegant and with a definite presence. I knew I’d found my 40th birthday bike.

While at Earl’s Court, I also came across a new online clothing company, whose name I scarcely need mention here. As I left the stand after a chat and trying on a jersey or two, the friendly proprietor handed me a smart black musette. It contained a money-off voucher, which I decided to hang on to, just in case. Providentially, as it turned out.

The Guv’nor arrived in early November, just before the fateful day. It wasn’t exactly the weather for a bike with cream tyres and no mudguards, but nothing was going to stop me heading out for a road test. Several things quickly became apparent. First, that 15 kilos of Reynolds 531 designed in the 1930s is harder to ride uphill than seven kilos of 21st Century carbon. Second, that gear selection is a lot more critical when you have only three, not 20, to choose from. Thirdly, that the scientists who’ve spent decades and millions trying to create perfectly frictionless surfaces have been wasting their time and money. Within five minutes, I’d discovered that the adhesive properties of Lycra cycling tights on a brand-new Brooks B17 are, in fact, zero. With this revelation, I got to the, er, bottom of an issue that threatened to derail the whole enterprise. I had a drawer (OK, three) full of cycling kit. But pairing shiny synthetics with sober black steel and leather handlebar grips was, I realised, as incongruous as George W Bush presenting University Challenge.

Clearly, I needed to rethink my wardrobe. Things were looking up already. However, inescapably wedded as I am to all things light and beautiful, I just couldn’t make the jump to the plus-fours and Fair Isle sweater a vintage bike seemed to indicate. Surely turning 40 didn’t mean becoming some kind of retro-grouch and riding around looking like an extra from Brideshead Revisited? As I gazed into an appalling abyss of Harris tweed and Argyll socks, I remembered my voucher. Within minutes, all leave had been cancelled at Barclaycard, but I didn’t care: Project Guv’nor was back on track. And so it was that, a few days later, I took The Guv’nor back on the road in an altogether more fitting ensemble. A red Solo Équipe Jersey gave me the natural-fibres look I felt the bike demanded; more importantly, I looked more like Fausto Coppi and less like Bertie Wooster. Similarly non-shiny Swrve three-quarter-length shorts cured the interface problems between me and the Brooks, and cunningly concealed the bib-shorts so essential during the break-in period (they tell me the first 10,000 miles are the worst). And since I’m not yet required to wear a helmet, I decided not to, substituting my normal lid with a black Solo cap.

It probably still sounds faintly ridiculous, but you should have seen us the first day. That was just the beginning. So far this year, I’ve put over 1,000 miles on my birthday bike, and I can truthfully say I’ve loved every minute of it. Routes I’d ridden literally hundreds of times have suddenly become challenging again, thanks to the Sturmey-Archer gears and hub brakes, and I’m seeing my corner of the world in a whole new light. Mostly because I’m going a lot more slowly. Which, I've concluded, really isn’t a bad thing at all. Especially for a bloke who’s going to be 41 this year. And you know what? Rather looking forward to it. 

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