AGE IS JUST A WHEEL SIZE

Sure enough I’m slowly but surely working towards my 'grumpy old git' diploma, and expect to graduate with honours, although I do have something of a backstory to back up my whines and memoirs.

Being a couple or three notches to the wrong side of mid life, I’ve been riding and racing bikes of every kind all over the world since I was 12 years old, which was way back in the transitional days between sequinned disco flared strides and punk rock piercings and pogo dancing. That was a fair while before mountain biking was even invented – or rather before it was officially tagged, as most of us had been riding klunker like contraptions offroad and over pallet board jumps since we were old enough to eat chocolate.

So, yes – I do have that often scorned at and jaded 'roadie’ label branded and grit engrained into my scarred knees, hips and elbows. It’s really strange from my perch, as roadies often refer to me as a mountain biker – however as far as I know, I’m just a cyclist.

Two wheels and a saddle and I’m all good