Cycling Weekly — January 11, 2018

Last laugh

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Hutch

Dr

The Doc’s home improvement plan

comprises an opulent bicycle storage

facility and a new toilet-roll holder

t is often worryingly

easy to identify a cyclist’s

house. Gate hanging off

its hinges, grass up to windowsill

level, fl aking paint, and a bike

rider outside with a bike on a

workstand, replacing all the alloy

bottle-cage bolts with titanium and

regreasing the pedal bearings for

the third time this month.

It is a question of priorities, and

it’s not the fi rst time I’ve pointed

this out. However, the opposite

of classic cyclist’s DIY-phobia is

much, much worse.

I shall explain. My house is

a wreck. It was a wreck when

I bought it. I liked that I wasn’t

paying good money for any sort

of cosmetic quality that I knew

I’d never maintain. It was already

in the sort of shape that I’d drag

it down to. But then one day last

year I decided that we needed

a new toilet-roll holder. This

escalated into a new bathroom,

and then into moving the

bathroom upstairs, and fi nally into

a complete rebuild. I’d suddenly

crossed from something akin to

housework to something akin to

Grand Designs. And I have to say it

felt rather good.

Kindred spirits

I told Mrs. Doc that I would take

the matter in hand. I engaged

an architect. The architect and I

engaged a builder. And, as luck

would have it, all three of us were,

to at least some extent, cyclists.

“I’ll need somewhere to keep

bikes,” I told them.

“Of course,” said the architect.

“How many bikes do you have?”

“Fourteen,” I said.

“And I imagine you’ll need space

for the collection to grow from

there?” he said, and I realised I

was dealing with a kindred spirit.

And so a bike store was

designed. It is to have an electric

door so that I can open it as I

ride up the drive. It includes

under-fl oor heating to keep the

temperature stable, along with

bespoke racking, ground anchors,

and LED lighting.

There will be a workshop

as well, with two permanent

workstands, as well as a bike-

wash area.

“Maybe,” said the builder, “we

should include some decking

outside the workshop, so that

you could work on bikes in the

sunshine? The workshop faces

south, so if we just put it by the

door it would be perfect.”

Perfect was the word. This was

nothing less than semi-detached

cycling heaven.

All about the bike

I’ll be honest, I probably didn’t

prepare for my discussions about

the designs with Mrs. Doc as

thoroughly as I might.

“Isn’t it brilliant?” I said.

“Isn’t there a kitchen?” said

Mrs. Doc.

“It’s, um, it’s right here where it

always has been,” I said.

“So let me get this clear,” said

Mrs. Doc (this phrase isn’t really

about establishing clarity, it’s more

like a domestic air-raid warning

siren). “The bikes get under-fl oor

heating, LED lighting, automatic

doors, a custom-built wet room

The Doc never tyres

of fettling with

his fleet

Dear Doc, I’m emailing from Tenerife, where I’m on a

winter break with my brother.

He brought his bike, since for him no holiday is

complete without it. And the cursing that echoed through

our rented apartment when he unpacked his bike and his

kit and realised he’d left his cycling shoes on the bed back

at home was quite something to witness.

So we spent the fi rst day of the holiday looking for a

bike shop at which he could buy a replacement pair of

shoes, and then looking for another one where he could

buy a pair of cleats.

I have to tell you that the cursing I heard on day one

was as nothing compared to the cursing that occurred

on day two when he remembered that neatly tucked

inside his shoes back home were his pedals.

Anon, email

60 | January 11, 2018 | Cycling Weekly