Boris bikes

This week I was lucky enough to get a trip to London to see how Boris Johnson's cycle hire scheme is going. Serco, the private sector company running the back end logistics operation and "the biggest company no-one has heard of", opened the doors of their HQ and welcomed a group of 15 visitors.

Their ubiquitous blue bikes seem to be creating quite a buzz around cycling in London with the scheme attracting an average of 18,000 winter weekday trips on their 5000 or so sturdy, lumbering bicycles.

Walking around their compound I was able to take in the sheer scale of their operation, which employs 170 staff and mans 360 docking locations. Statistics quoted claimed that the scheme attracts 20-25% 'non-cyclists' (ie people who don't consider themselves 'cyclists'), which is commendable as it gets people out of cars and buses and onto a healthier, cheaper and more environmentally friendly form of transport.

The scheme does appear to have its critics, although these accusations tend to be concerned with the limited geographical spread of the project and how it is being financed. Whilst there's obvious public interest in the scheme being seen as value for money, surely there's a bigger picture here when the public purse is considered.

If London manages to raise its modal share for bicycles from 2% to the 4% of several other major UK cities, that's around 150,000 people getting fitter, saving money, reducing the strain on the health service and doing so in an environmentally friendly manner. I understand that this project needs to show value for money but how do you put a price on those benefits?

Amendment: No more than an hour after posting this I saw a fairly damning piece on the 10 O'Clock Show about Serco. Lauren Lavern made reference to Serco's reluctance to give accurate financial and performance information about a host of public sector projects, including work in the hospital and prison sector. Indeed, that may explain why my follow up emails about the financing behind the bike hire scheme have gone unanswered. Undoubtedly, a bike hire scheme for a city of 7 million people is a good thing and, from what I saw, Serco are running a tight and efficient ship. It's just a shame that the management of the scheme becomes the story rather than the bikes themselves. Still, that's the news industry for you.

TLC

Over these dark winter months the site of a bright light at the end of my garden has become familiar. My garage doubles up as a workshop and a space to use my turbo trainer.

It feels like my bikes have spent more time in the workshop this winter than I've spent on them. No sooner have I fixed up one bike has another shown signs of fatigue.

In November I became reacquainted with my boyhood bike - 'Nelson' of Nelson Cycles in the Brecon Beacons.


The bike came back to me bloodied, battered and bruised, and in dire need of a makeover. Brakes, gear levers, derailleurs, cables and wheels were all stripped off and replaced, and all other moving parts were removed and cleaned. The naked frame was sanded, buffed and resprayed. I gradually put it back together with the same diligence. The finishing touch was some lovely new Nelson stickers for the frame.

That project gave me the desire to fix up another bike so I converted my day-to-day bike (otherwise known as Bob Jackson) back into a fixed wheel, making full use of its track dropouts and narrow stays.

December's heavy snow forced me to abandon Bob Jackson in favour of Nelson. But after several weeks of use, combined with the salt on the roads, some of the parts on Nelson suddenly failed. On the way home from the pub just before Christmas, my rear brake locked on, forcing me to stamp on the pedals, which in turn snapped the chain as I was half way up Bristol's Park St. Falling off in front of a crowd of Christmas revellers is always guaranteed to bring a laugh (even I could see the funny side) but I had a long walk back home, pushing my bike along the snowy pavements.

Over the Christmas period I had the time to take out my other bikes, riding my Kona through the Ashton Court snow and my Boardman over to Wales as soon as the ice had cleared.

I hoped the new year would allow me to stop spending money on my bikes but, having recently started riding Bob Jackson again, now it seems that the rear brakes are failing on that bike, plus the right hand combination pedal is creaking badly and probably needs to be replaced.

But instead of spending on Bob Jackson, yesterday I bit the bullet and I finally got round to buying a new rear brake caliper for Nelson. After installing the new caliper and setting the brakes perfectly I noticed the left hand arm was a little wobbly. I tightened the bolt even further and then heard the dull crack of metal snapping. I'd broken off the V-brake mount. Then I heard the sharp barking sounds of someone swearing. I cursed loudly, several times, then called it a night.

I'll need a mechanic to let me know if it's replaceable - if not it will be curtains for my recently restored Nelson mountain bike.

Tonight I thought I might finally get a chance on the turbo trainer. I left work at a reasonable hour, factoring in some free time before my other evening duties. I was looking forward to a quick blast to blow the cobwebs away. Instead I found myself in the garage with tyre levers and patches. I punctured on the way home and had another long walk.

Turbo daily

A family party and a wet weekend in Wales put a serious dampner on my riding plans. Instead, for the fourth time this week, I lifted the back wheel of my bike into position against a fly-wheel and pedalled myself into a sweaty mess.

Turbo trainers, on paper at least are a great invention, perfect for the time-poor cyclist who doesn't fancy riding in the cold/wet/dark/ice. Yet the reality is markedly different. Without the cooling effect of the wind, the sweat pours off, so you need a space where you can sweat freely - my garage ticks those boxes. Mental stimulation is tough too, which is where the garage falls down as it lacks a TV, radio and an internet connection - vital armoury in the home-cyclist's fight against boredom.

Tonight, in my first hour long session, I hooked a laptop up and watched a music DVD to help keep me going. My regular week-night, half-hour blasts don't afford me the luxury of setting up a laptop so I try and keep boredom at bay with an ipod and pictures of various cyclists stuck on the garage wall in front of me. I know every detail of those pictures.

Here's hoping it'll be worth in the spring.

Winter training

8am and the alarm clock chirps into life, in complete contrast to the body next to it slowly shuffling to the start line of the new day.

My eyes slowly wrench open, breaking the seal that's kept them firmly shut for seven hours. Once again the working week has taken its toll. Not enough rest. Another sleep deficit starts to build up.

It's still dark outside; winter's morning misery.

Into the bathroom and the spare room, washed and dressed, and down to the kitchen. Porrige and a strong coffee to get some fuel in the tank.

I head out to the garage and feel winter's icy blast. My chilblains send a message of defeat to my brain. My brain responds "I never liked you anyway."

I'm out the door. "Just a leg loosener," I tell myself, "tomorrow's the big one." A new village to find and new lanes to discover give me the excuse I need to trick my brain into heading out.

An hour and a half later I'm rolling back home, cold but satisfied.

I shower, I eat, I rest. I glow with post-exercise euphoria. The rest of the day passes. I'll wake up tomorrow and do exactly the same.

New year's revolutions

This time last year I set myself the target of riding from Lands End to John O'Groats in 9 days. This year's ambition isn't so concrete, it's simply to ride more than the 6,450 miles I put in last year.

New year's day is traditionally the day when riders end the 'party season' and start putting in the hard graft.

My party season has had an extension. Training starts tomorrow...