She is a mixture of Taliban (wheels, front brakes, gears), Jedward (seat, pedals, mudguard, handlebars) and the skip-rescue bike, which I called Black Death.Â In order to commemorate the unholy union of 3 shitty bikes, her name is Jelideath.Â Let her name ring down through the ages whenever a shit bicycle is mentioned.
Sorry, I don’t really have anything much to say about curry at the moment.Â It’s been ages since I had one and I think I’m beginning to forget what they taste like.Â Tragic.
But on to Ebay – I just put this advert on there, for Jedward my faithful steed:
A bike called Jedward
He’s called Jedward because he’s crap.Â When I bought him he was crap.Â The brakes didn’t really work in the wet – as I hurtled to my doom they made a distant mooing sound, like a cow in the next field.Â The tyres were falling to bits and both the back and front wheels were buckled.Â But then I found another bike that was going to be chucked in a skip and, using bits from another junker and Jedward, I managed to cobble together something that was rubbish but wouldn’t actually kill me the next time there was a bit of drizzle in the air.Â Which leaves Jedward, who was crap at the best of times, and now even crapper than when I bought him because he’s had all the 1/4 decent bits taken off and replaced with the 1/8th decent bits from the skip-rescued one.
So what are you bidding on?Â All the bits that make up a bike are there.Â All you need to do is tighten everything up and you’ve got yourself a death-trap that no-one in their right mind would ride without the legally-binding promise, signed by at least 4 gods, of 200 virgins waiting for him (or her) on the other side.Â Seriously, you don’t want to ride this one home and I purposely left everything loose so he’s un-rideable.Â What’s good about him?Â Well, the frame and forks aren’t too bad and the dust covers on the tyre valves are in tip top condition.Â Other than that, he’s crap.
Taliban, my “new” bike* has got a sticker on it, proudly announcing that it’s made from “Ferrocarbon”. Wow! That’s some super space-age high-tech stuff, surely? Oh, hang on. “Ferro” = iron? Iron and carbon… oh yes, that’s steel. So it’s got a steel frame. Wow. That’s great. So much better than manky old aluminium or carbon fibre.
Riding in the blazing heat makes you hot, sweaty and stinky.Â If you are already hot and stinky from a 3 mile cycle ride home in the blazing heat, a large dollop of baby sick, applied down your bare back does not improve your aroma.
If a co-worker cycles to the pub and back, parking his bike next to yours on his return, don’t be totally surprised if you find that he’s accidentally locked your bike up instead of his.
Cheap bike locks that look butch can be removed in 3 minutes with a hammer and a hacksaw. If you know what you are doing you can have the bugger off in 20 seconds.
If you stop your bike to ask a white van driver why he carved you up and he responds by shouting “fuck you” through the closed window, pointing and laughing at him will make him so cross he will actually try to run you over. So this one is best attempted while he’s stuck in traffic that you can get past easily. It is very funny though.
The only remotely interesting things to happen to me always seem to involve bicycles in some way.
* “New” as in “given to me by a friend because he hated riding it so much”. It might be slow, heavy and a bit crap but… er… um… Anyway, Taliban puts the “fun” into “fundamental”. And the “mental”.Â And, presumably, the “da” too, but I’ve no idea what that means.