A little something from Alanis this evening to a) delight the legions of Portuguese fans of lifeinthecyclelane who are forever demanding plinky plunky music videos with subtitles and b) make my Canadian reader hang his head in shame.
In fact, the interweb tells me Alanis is half American so you guys can all feel bad too.
Incidentally, on behalf of the UK, I hereby sincerly apologise for The Spice Girls. *slow, sad headshake*
Anyhoo, it’s been all kinds of exciting here at lifeinthecyclelane HQ recently; you’ve probably read the news reports about a crazy-eyed, hairy-faced man abandoning his unfortunate and all-too-patient girlfriend at various marketplaces around Manchester while he goes off cycling in the wilderness with…
<insert dramatic music here>
But seriously, Canadian-American regret and hideously inappropriate innuendo aside, this is after all a cycling blog so it’s about time I reported on something at least a little bit cycling related.
Ahem. You at the back! Stop sniggering. This is a serious blog.
This year, I’ve largely been switching back and forth between my Surly Troll and Kinesis Crosslight for commuting duties. During the summer, the Kinesis was also my evening & weekend ride of choice for exploring the local lanes and bridleways.
As the days started to get shorter and the weather started to get crappier, I set the Troll up in its now familiar mountain biking guise and the Kinesis became my foul weather commuter.
It’s time to talk about rubber.
Hey! No sniggering.
After countless miles over tarmac, gravel, hardpack dirt and (some) mud in blazing heat, freezing cold, pouring rain and (a little) ice, it’s finally time to hang up what has to be one of the best sets of tyres I’ve ever owned. The Vittoria Randonneur Cross Pro with its semi-slick, semi-knobbly tread, reflective sidewalls, sticky compound and excellent puncture protection has been absolutely flawless.
Mine are now looking almost completely slick, the reflective stip is starting to peel away and the combined abuse from Birmingham & Manchester’s roads and trails over the last few years has left them beaten, battered and scarred. And yet, through it all, I never had a single puncture.
Of course, one simply can’t abandon one’s girlfriend without the universe handing out some kind of cruel and unusual karmic punishment. My punishment came in the form of a 2 inch galvanised steel nail that somehow found its way into my rear tyre, directly through the tread, out through the sidewall and CLATTER CLATTER CLATTER into my rear mudguard; albeit mercifully just around the corner from the office.
Now, as a rule, when your tyre sidewall gets damaged, your tyre is toast. This is normally bad news. Especially when said tyres cost a small fortune. But, given the seemingly endless mileage they’ve given me, I really can’t complain; I’ve more than had my money’s worth.