People cycle for many different reasons; some to commute, some for fitness, some because “society” with its many “rules” deems them unsafe to hold any form of driving license ever since that unfortunate and widely mis-understood incident involving the bottle of brandy, the lamppost and the 23 year-old Lithuanian girl in the boot.
What type of bike have you got?
a) A space age construction made from materials that even the people who run the Large Hadron Collider have never heard of. It weighs minus five kilos.
b) A better one that you. And it cost loads more too. It’s an import - you can’t get them here. There are only five in the country.
c) The one that the bloke in the bike shop managed to sell you, somehow keeping a straight face.
How do you prepare before a bike ride?
a) Blood transfusion, injections of EPO under the toe-nails to conceal the evidence, eat a 12-egg omelette topped with 10 pancakes and a pint of gravy. Get on bike once the seizures have calmed down a bit and your vision has returned.
b) Do hair, apply make-up and fake tan. Twenty minutes of stretching exercises in front of a large mirror while listening to one of those ministry of sound retro compilations. Wait for your 15 cycling buddies to turn up and agree the optimum formation for disrupting traffic along your planned route.
c) Crawl out of bed, realise there is no point having a shower if you are about to exert yourself. Try to flatten sleep-arranged hair to absolutely no effect at all. After consideration decide to wash your bits and pieces in the sink to prevent things being too minging after a couple of hours in the saddle. Curse yourself for not switching the immersion heater on in advance. Bend knees in some attempt at limbering up, the cracking noises cause your neighbours to complain.
What is your usual cycling attire?
a) Essentially clingfilm decorated with gaudy adverts.
b) A lycra affair that perfectly balances exuding your wealth with showcasing the two hours you spend in the gym each day and the work of the cosmetic surgeon. Plus a pointlessly teardrop shaped helmet that only becomes efficient at around 60mph and sinister mirrored wraparound shades. An iPhone is strapped to one arm and a Blackberry to the other.
c) Indie band t-shirt, H&M hoodie, cleanest boxers you could find on the floor and a pair of shorts with so much groin focussed padding that when sitting down you are almost half a foot taller than when standing.
How do you greet fellow cyclists on the road?
a) “Hey Gunther, got any gear?”
b) Speed up in a pointed manner, refuse to acknowledge that they exist – as though even glancing in their direction will cause your aerodynamic profile to be crucially affected.
c) Get confused as to whether you should wave, nod or just say “hello” without sounding too out of breath. End up doing all three and nearly fall off.
What reaction do you get from the general public?
a) They tend to paint your name on the road a lot and cheer as you go past.
b) Lust, jealousy and awe in equal measure you imagine.
c) Laughter, pointing, items being thrown from cars with spoilers.
Where do you like to go for a quick spin?
a) Up and down Alp d’Huez a couple of times
b) Anywhere that there will be people to see you, especially pedestrian heavy thoroughfares. Ideally the Southbank of the Thames at about five pm looking disgusted at the commuting masses. Out of my way you proles!
c) Routes involving no traffic, forgivingly smooth tarmac and an above average distribution of public houses.
How has cycling affected your general physique and appearance?
a) Your heart and lungs are four times the size of the average person and 10 times as efficient, which is cool, but also makes you somewhat twitchy - like a nervous gerbil on Red Bull. Your resting heart rate is 1.
b) People write articles in fitness magazines about your prize-winning quads. You frame copies and send them out to family and friends as Christmas presents.
c) There is often chain grease in your leg hair.
How did you do?
Mostly A: You are probably standing on a podium somewhere, between a pair of stunning swimwear models holding a trophy aloft and starting to get the shivers in anticipation of your next hit.
Mostly B: You are probably reading this on your mobile - as light relief between sending cruel, dismissive text messages - while running on a treadmill at the gym. You probably like that Kings Of Leon album.
Mostly C: You are most probably me, you are typing this rubbish into a computer and starting to be quite worried about the whole bike trip thing. You are telling yourself that it will be fine, but that pretending to be talking to yourself in writing (using the present tense) probably isn’t a good sign. You are definitely going to have a curry later, possibly a Lamb Pathia.
