Urban cycle art

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SSSkkkkreeeee! Cycle art by San Francisco based artist, Tony Papesh. Visit Tony’s website here.

Protected by karma

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“Oh“. The Kryptonite ‘D’ lock is placed on the table. We stare it with incredulity. The New Yorker offers fine protection from theft but only when attached to the bike. “So where’s your… Continue reading

Travels by bike #1

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Global city. Silent epicenter. City light illuminates networks of high voltage. The remains of past lives, ceaseless winds, smashed atoms, the glare of our sun. They all flow here. Connector to connector to… Continue reading

More of them. On things like these.

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I love these moments. Llandaff North, Cardiff. The traffic snarled to a halt. It has gone 5.  The claxon has sounded. Offices have emptied. Commuters have fled. Tempers are frayed. I can see… Continue reading

Thoughts on ‘Wales – a cycling nation’ conference

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At some point I’ll put together a more eloquent response to the ‘Wales – a cycling nation’ conference than this one will prove to be – my head currently feels like its being… Continue reading

Cycle art: Tour De France

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Tour De France cycle art by the talented Bruce Doscher. An NY emigre to NZ, Bruce ran a daily Tour De France illustration project, showcasing his work on his website. Further examples of… Continue reading

Advice: Undertaking large vehicles?

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… In a word – DON’T (or at the very least be very sure you can before you do). Why? Because I saw it again today, and it chills me to the bone.… Continue reading

Clubs get stronger together

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Keeping the old ‘uns on their toes and training the next generation of competitive cyclists, promising young riders from  Abergavenny CC (Becky James and Amy Hill’s club) join the Cardiff JIF cyclo-cross training… Continue reading

Battle mountain HPV

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While we’re sat at our desks ploughing a diligent furrow, there are a select band of cyclists applying an altogether more brutal form of diligence on the salt flats of Nevada. This year’s… Continue reading

The Field

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I’d finished. Terminé. Fertig. Gorffenedig. Three hours. Relentless climbs. Brief descents. I’d shouldered the bike over stiles. Up natural steps. Over rutted grassland. The sun radiated through bright white clouds and penetrated errant… Continue reading