My sticky solution to beat the bike thieves
SPRING IS sprung, and for me it heralds a 25-year anniversary… and a reunion. Once again, love is in the air.
Hard to believe that a quarter of a century on, I can still look at that sexy chassis and feel the frisson of excitement I experienced when I first spotted her, across a crowded room.
I realise, as we find each other again, that in fact the old passion is stronger than ever, richer for all those fond memories…
Now I’m wondering how I ever banished the old girl to a life, unloved, up there in darkness. There she was, hidden away, upside down, without the warmth that comes from the bottom of my heart – or perhaps more appropriately, the heart of my bottom.
You see, some of my best times were spent on the saddle of that very special bike.
And the thief who just took my inexpensive, heavy, everyday bike, it turns out, has done me a favour, reminding me that I had a dream machine up in the loft. So I get the old girl downstairs, dust her off and then give her a damn good going-over.
How forlorn she looks, being lowered, festooned in spiders’ webs, through the hatch, with her panniers drooping.
What a far cry from glory days of our
