This article is part of a series called ‘A love letter to…’, where Cycling Weekly writers pour praise on their favourite cycling items and share the personal connection they have with them. In this case, however it is a break-up letter to expensive cycling gadgets.
Every now and then, and against my better judgement, I’ll go on Facebook on my phone. It’s a motor reaction, really, a learned behaviour from an adolescence spent growing up on the app. I can’t bring myself to delete it. Sometimes I’ll lose an hour to the scrolling.
Anyway, I was on Facebook the other day, and I came across an article. The headline was something about all the things a cyclist needs, the trinkets they daren’t leave home without. Instinctively, I clicked on it. I wanted to feel smug. After all, I, one of those society calls a ‘keen cyclist’, would be certain to score a full house.
I was stunned by the first item, actually. According to the list, the opening safety essential is a ‘radar’. If you don’t know what that is, then don’t worry, neither really did I, but I’ve since discovered it’s a small device that detects vehicles as they approach you, and alerts you to their presence on your GPS computer.
The list goes on. Camera. Nah. Crash sensor. Nah. Rearview glasses. Who am I… Inspector Gadget? It quickly becomes clear that the items on the list are more Silicon Valley than Wye Valley. They’re about as essential to riding a bike as a sequin collar or swimming armbands. (Neither of which I have, by the way.)
There are, of course, a few more rudimentary products there, too: a hi-vis vest, for example, the garment of choice of school lunchtime supervisors, and a bell – you remember, the little metal thing you ripped off the handlebars as soon as you got your new bike home.
Call me smarmy for turning my nose up at this, but my frustration isn’t really about the list. Cycling, at its core, should be a straightforward, accessible thing. All you really need is a bike. If you’re riding outdoors at night, I’d suggest you spend a few quid on some lights, too.
To an outsider, a budding two-wheeler, lists like these risk fostering an elitism that, to do our sport, you need an Aladdin’s cave of gizmos. If I were to buy every item, it would cost me the best part of £800, and that’s before the cost of the actual bike.
Most people take great joy in pootling around on a scuffed, second-hand hack-around – no rearview glasses, no high-end radar, just a whirring chain and a smile. That’s what cycling is about.
