I never used to be a serial bike cheater until my first love died a rusty death at the clutches of three salty Brighton winters. Yes, I liken the day I had to abandon my 'Beatrice the Basket Bike' to such events as my cat dying or when I realised I was too old for a young persons rail card (I am still young).
Since Beatrice's death by oxidisation in 2008, cycling was never the same again. I have since had affairs with 3 bicycles and I am now about to commit to my fourth.
I'm passing up my shameful attempt at dipping my toe into the single speed style revolution. Trying to pull off Dalston chic was more like can't-afford-to-have-any-gears-numskull. Other cyclists often give me the 'she doesn't know what she is doing' look, their eyes sympathising over this poor woman straining up the hill, and I know they want to cry 'you can change your gear, love'. Alas, smug faces all round. 'No Mr Lycra, does it look like this bike has cogs and a DERAILLEUR!' Enough about single speed exasperation and back to my bike polygamy.
Goodbye sturdy Raleigh shopper Caprice aka 80's warrior. I won’t miss you.