What's wrong with bike shops?

Autumn leaves, in hordes, tumbled along the road towards me; it was as if I was up high looking down on crowds of people fleeing some kind of disaster or tidal wave. They were being pushed along by a gusty wind and followed on from a night of persistent rain that left huge, black puddles, including one especially large one in my local railway station's car park. I was on my way to work and as I walked along the road towards a much later train than normal, I found myself fretting about my lack of cycling. Things had tailed off considerably. Last Sunday was my one and only ride this week. The week before it was a similar story, just one ride and now, looking ahead at the coming week, it's looking pretty shaky. Today I ride to Sutton. It's around six miles and will give me a weekly total of something like 28 miles. Even when I was putting in decent mileage (around 71 miles) it was a step down from the 80+ miles I had been covering, and of late that had dropped to 60+ plus miles as I juggled work with riding. Up until recently, a routine of sorts had fallen into place: Monday to Wednesday at work, a Washpond Weeble on Thursday and Friday and a longer ride on Saturday culminating in a pleasant half hour people watching from the warmth of a Costa Coffee in Westerham. However, over the past fortnight that routine has flown out of the window, thanks in large part to the hassles associated with not having a central heating boiler. That little problem has since been fixed.

Cycle King Croydon: I smell a rat

You may ask why I am visiting Sutton on my bike on a Friday morning. Well, for a start, I have the day off. In fact, I have every Friday off until virtually the end of the year, and also Mondays. I'll be on three-day weeks from next week, which, I suppose, is all good news for cycling. But I digress, why am I riding to Sutton? I am riding to Evans Cycles where my bike is booked in for a £60 service. They say I'll have it back within 48 hours. I've warned them that the rear braking system needs some attention, there's a nasty scraping noise whenever I pull up the brake and I'm told that the shoes are worn down and I might have damaged the disc. "You might even need a new brake!" exclaimed the manager of Cycle King in Croydon, immediately arousing my suspicion last Sunday when I rode down there to ask them to fit new brake shoes, thinking that was the sole cause of my problems. But of course I wasn't going to get away with it that easily. He even said I'd have to go online and buy the discs myself as they were having supply issues with Shimano. I smelt a rat and initially considered Ross Cycles in Caterham, but then found there was an Evans Cycles store in Sutton. Ross had done a brilliant job servicing my bike last year so I thought I'd repeat the process, but my bike is now dangerous to ride (as I discovered when I rode down Slines Oak Road last Sunday morning). In essence it doesn't stop. Sutton is a flatter journey, no huge hills, like the one heading down towards Whyteleafe from Warlingham School otherwise known as Tithepit Shaw Lane. So I booked an appointment for 1030hrs this morning. I'm told they'll take up to 48 hours to return the bike to me (depending on parts) and I'm betting they're going to say they haven't got this or that - probably those Shimano discs, who knows? In other words, I'll be another week without much in the way of riding and I'm going to have to grin and bear it.

Evans Cycles, Sutton: no qualified mechanics?

I rode around 12 miles to Sutton and back, unrecorded by Strava as my phone was out of power. It was cold out, I wasn't wearing any gloves, but I did have thick cords over my cycling shorts and a fairly heavy fleece over a tee-shirt. Once I'd got going I warmed up. There were a few hills, notably Hayling Park Road, but nothing I couldn't deal with, and I had to endure fairly busy, heavy traffic there and back. I arrived at Evans Cycles around 10 minutes later than scheduled, but they hadn't noticed and business seemed fairly slow, making me wonder how long the shop would exist as there were plenty of bikes of all shapes and sizes and I was the only customer. I explained my problem to somebody I assumed was the manager, a nice chap who was willing to be of assistance and offer helpful information. The bike had been booked in for a £60 bronze service and I'd made remarks online that the brakes needed sorting out, probably new pads and also a new disc, but it all depended on what they suggested. The first problem was a lack of properly trained bike mechanics, which meant that all I could have was a bronze service, which was what I had asked for, but the guy checked the brakes and suggested that with the potential problems that lurked with my rear brake I'd be better off having a silver service in another store (either Wimbledon or Clapham where they have trained mechanics) as they would do all that was needed in terms of fixing other stuff (he said I'd definitely need a new chain and block) and then sorting the brakes out on top. I still don't quite understand this. I wanted the brakes fixed and a bronze service, but, he suggested a silver service by qualified mechanics but in another store. Why? Because for the £60 I'd get all the work done (gears etc) and then the brakes would be extra on top, whereas a bronze service only really skims the surface and I'd end up paying more because with the silver service the chain and block would be done as part of the deal and then any issues with the brakes would be extra. He estimated over £100 in total. My brain was now working overtime. Surely, if they gave me a new chain and block as part of a silver service I would still have to pay for the parts? So why couldn't the same thing be done with the bronze service? It probably could, I'm guessing, but the Sutton store didn't have 'proper' mechanics, whereas Clapham and Wimbledon outlets do and they'd be capable of carrying out the silver service, fixing the block and the brakes... I still don't get it, but he wasn't trying to rip me off, he was, in fact, turning business away and telling me to take it to another store, get the whole lot seen to by trained mechanics and not messed around with by enthusiastic amateurs. But what if I'd just come in off the street and asked for new brake pads? What then? Surely his rank amateurs could fit new brake shoes, something I would have done at home had I known how to. So I cycled all the way home again, a 12-mile round trip, braving the intense traffic and getting home a few minutes before noon. Now what?

Well, Clapham would be easy in terms of getting the bike to the store, it's a train ride from Sanderstead and then a short ride on the bike, past Arding & Hobbs and through Clapham High Street. I'd find it. Or, I could ride it to Caterham and Ross Cycles where I know for a fact that my bike's needs would be understood. Oddly, I'm tempted to go for Evans Cycles in Clapham, in fact, I'm about to check both options out again online. Had my bike been accepted by Evans in Sutton today, of course, I would have kissed goodbye to riding the bike this weekend.

Book an assessment, not a service

I have revisited the Evans website with a view to booking a silver service in the Clapham store, but I'm worried. The site says I can book an appointment and the store will tell me what sort of service they recommend for the bike. That's not the same as requesting a silver service and then accepting that the brakes will be fixed and all will be well. What if they suggest I have a Gold service and I don't want to spend the money? I would have to walk away.

Bike shops are beginning to annoy me as I believe, for example, that a Gold service will likely set me back the best part of £200, which is not far off half the price I paid for the bike new, which, no doubt, will prompt the suggestion, "you might as well buy a new bike!" which I fell for the last time when I tried to get my old Kona Scrap serviced. "You might as well buy a new bike!" I still have my Kona in the garage, unserviced from over four years ago when I was told that a new bike would be the best option. I made a point of not buying a new bike from the two shops who suggested it (Cycle King and the now defunct Cycle Republic).

Walking away with an unfixed bike

Why is it that I can no longer walk into a bike shop and say that my rear brake needs fixing without a load of cryptic clap trap that leaves me confused and not knowing what to do? These days I tend to walk away from bike shops with an unfixed bike rather than a fixed one. So far, over the past week, I have done just that: I walked away from Cycle King in Croydon and today from Evans in Sutton.

To me it is crystal clear that my rear brake isn't working (it's hard to stop!) and needs to be fixed. It certainly needs new brake pads so why can't they simply fix it?

Sticking with an independent bike shop

I have decided to stick with the bike shop that did such a good job on my bike last year, Ross Cycles of Caterham. Why I thought I'd try Evans Cycles and Cycle King, I don't know. The very thought of another cryptic conversation with Evans Cycles, this time in Clapham, and walking away (for a third time in under a week) with an unfixed bike was just too much to bear. I'm dropping the bike off tomorrow morning and we'll see what takes place.

Tomorrow has arrived and the ride to Caterham was fine, just under six miles and no major hills to contend with. I arrived around 1030hrs and handed over my bike to Ross Cycles. He took it in and told me it would be ready by Tuesday. Fine. That's what I want to hear. None of the rubbish spouted by the likes of Cycle King, Evans Cycles and the others. Yes, Ross will call me to say it's going to cost X or Y, I'm expecting that, but at least I've not walked away with an unfit bike, it's been taken in for repair, I have metaphorically 'handed over the keys' and I know roughly when it's going to be ready for collection. Thank you, Ross Cycles of Caterham.

Fog, footy and failing brakes...

The rain had gone by Sunday morning when I headed for Westerham to meet Andy last Sunday. The ride was pleasant, but when I reached my destination Andy was preparing to leave. I checked my watch, I wasn't that late, but he said he needed to be on his way, he had a lot to do, so we didn't get to chat. Instead, I sat alone inside the Costa doing exactly what I did the previous morning: day dreaming, people watching, listening to the chilled out music. As always, I could have sat there all day, reading the Sunday papers, perhaps, but eventually I departed, riding back the way I came when I discovered that, once again, Strava wasn't playing ball. This time it said that I'd only covered just over 16 miles when the reality was something like 22 miles. Very annoying. I rode back the way I came, and rode up Hesiers Hill (again) - it's easy!

Prior to climbing Hesiers Hill...

I think the problem with Strava on this occasion might (and I stress the word 'might') have been my fault. I stopped at the bottom of Hesiers Hill, prior to making the climb, and took a couple of photographs. There's a chance that when I used the phone's camera app that I stopped Strava and, because I did so unwittingly, I never pressed 'resume'. Hey Ho.

I can't hack a ride after being at work

As always, work prevented me cycling between Monday and Wednesday. By the time I reach home, riding the bike is the last thing on my mind; I'm thinking about what there is to eat and what's on television. Invariably I find myself watching the 6 o'clock news or The One Show (a fucking awful programme full of bland presenters who don't present any kind of threat to any woke people out there). There's nothing worse than political correctness and what it can do to those who try to live by it.

I should have taken the bike out on Thursday, but I didn't so I was left with Friday and it was touch and go. Eventually, however, I decided to ride the Washpond Weeble, just a straight 12.5 miles. I figured it was not worth worrying or fretting about it. The last couple of weeks had seen my mileage plummet by 10 miles to 60-odd miles, or just over, but now I was dipping further. Last week I only managed 54.81 miles, the week before it was 64 miles. But why worry? I resigned myself to lethargy and set off on Saturday morning to meet Andy in Tatsfield Village (roughly an 18-mile ride as I rode home via Woldingham). Meeting Andy on a Saturday was a break with tradition and this was because Andy had signed up for the White Lane hill challenge. White Lane joins Titsey Hill with Clarks Lane and it's a really steep climb. Both Andy and I have done it on many occasions and it's so steep that the front end of the bike becomes weightless and if you lose momentum, it's game over. We met on Saturday because Andy had done all the preparation he needed to do and was avoiding most hills until the big day (which was Sunday). 

Fog gives way to sun

I left the house on Saturday morning around 0800hrs in thickish fog. It was fairly cold too, but I figured I'd warm up as I went along. The fog persisted, but when I reached the beginning of the B269 I spotted rays of sunlight penetrating the murky greyness. It cleared by the time I reached Botley Hill and as I sailed along Approach Road into the village the weather was fantastic. I found Andy sitting outside Sheree's Tearoom (our agreed meeting place) and the whole thing was idyllic: sunshine, misty skies and warmth. I ordered a tea and we sat there enjoying the serenity of the situation, stroking an old dog called Sophie. After chatting about Andy's continuing veganism and other subjects, it was time to mount the bikes and head home. My bike, incidentally, is in need of a service. At the very least the front brake needs seeing to as it's scrapping and squeaking and I'm worried that a shoe has either worn down so much that it's scraping against the disc or that a shoe has fallen out completely. I could probably get away with just fixing the front brakes, but it's tempting to have a service, like last year, which has seen me through to now, a whole year basically of maintenance-free riding, thanks to Ross Cycles of Caterham. So my latest dilemma is just that: Do I nip down to Cycle King and get the front brake fixed OR take it over to Ross and have a service? Dilemmas, dilemmas! Either way something needs doing and Andy suggests fixing the front brake and giving the bike a clean. It definitely needs a clean, and fixing the brake will cost less than a service. Let's see.

Andy outside Sheree's Tearooms on Saturday morning

Saturday was a fairly uneventful day, but I did receive a text from Andy. He'd come off his bike, shortly after we parted company at the top of Slines Oak Road in Woldingham. Travelling around 20 mph he went through damp leaves on the road and came off, bending the bike's gear system and hurting his hip. The White Lane hill challenge was off, for Andy at any rate, but it meant our Sunday meeting in Westerham was back on so we agreed to meet at 0900hrs at Costa Coffee.

'Footy' - a subject we know little about

When Sunday morning arrived I enjoyed my usual breakfast (Alpen, porridge oats, grapes, bananas and tea) and then, around 0800hrs set off for the northern Kent market town. I rode straight along the 269, turned left at the Botley Hill roundabout and then sailed down Clarks Lane, the bike squeaking and scraping as it went along, all very annoying. As I approached Westerham I started to wonder whether Andy would be inside or outside, bearing in mind that it wasn't that warm. I found him outside talking to a man who resembed Doc from Back to the Future. The man wore a leather jacket and there were a few badges, one for the Sex Pistols, and other bands, but when I arrived they were talking football, not that Andy knows a great deal about the beautiful game and nor do I. Various names were mentioned: Jimmy Greaves, Peter Osgood ('he's dead now too', said I pretending I owned a huge encyclopaedic knowledge of footy when in reality I know fuck all. Fortunately I do know a bit about bands and the Sex Pistols so I steered the conversation towards Jah Wobble and Sid Vicious and soon discovered that our new friend used to be a drummer in a band called Lunchbox, but clearly he'd hit upon hard times. He's been living in rented accommodation in Westerham for the past 11 years, working as a taxi driver and having other odd jobs here and there, playing the odd gig but only getting a single clap at the end of a set. But he was a nice guy, a friendly man with his heart in the right place. He'd quit drinking about three months ago and I feared that he'd been advised to do so by his doctor. There were a few 'drinking stories', like the time when he entered a pub in Sevenoaks and a man took offence at his likeness to Doc from Back to the Future and started a fight. End result? Our new pal was banned from the pub, or something like that. Later, as Andy and I rode away, having discussed who his favourite drummer was (a toss up between Ginger Baker from Cream and Jimmy Hendrix's drummer Mitch something or other) we both agreed that he was a nice guy whose heart was definitely in the right place. As we headed up the hill, animated by our encounter with the man whose name we didn't know, I forgot that I was in top gear and that was probably why Andy and I were keeping together all the way up the hill, although Andy said he was taking things easy on his hip after yesterday's accident with the damp leaves.

Costa Coffee in Westerham

Some people have tough lives, far tougher than mine, I thought as I climbed towards Botley Hill. Our new friend, who doubtless we'll see again, possibly even next Sunday morning, lives in rented accommodation somewhere in Westerham, he was a taxi driver, ferrying the likes of Judi Dench to the Rendezvous restaurant in town, but I'm guessing that right now he's not doing a great deal, just about making ends meet I'd imagine. He looked a little down on his luck and I sincerely hope he stays off the booze. 

Andy and I parted company at the top of Slines Oak Road. When I reached home, Strava said I'd covered over 22 miles, which was good going for the first day of my cycling week. I told Andy I might try and ride to work on Tuesday and that got me quietly fretting about how many miles I would put in this week. Again, it's not worth worrying about and now, here I sit, writing the blog, nobody else in the house. I'm about to start making lunch.

Stopping bad habits

Despite missing my Thursday ride, it was a good week one way or the other. I must have walked around eight miles between Monday and Wednesday, from the house to the station, and I've continued (give or take) with my no cakes policy. That said, today I had a bread and butter pudding for dessert at lunch time, a smallish chunk of fruit cake round at mum's this afternoon and, about 10 minutes ago, bananas and custard. I don't know, I've stopped chocolate bars, despite one Wispa Gold last week, and I haven't bought a cinnamon brioche bun or a toasted tea cake or a millionaire's shortbread at Costa for over a month, I make do (quite comfortably) with a large English Breakfast tea in a tall paper mug. Mum's fruit cake, incidentally, is outside of the cake ban; I don't know why. Well, for a start, I haven't had a slice for a few weeks (no petrol in the car) so today's slice was acceptable, but I will keep it all on the down-low. There will, from this moment, be a desserts ban in the house, no more bread and butter puddings from Charlie Bigham, no more Bramley apple pie and custard and, let's face it, I've been off the biscuits for ages. Well, okay, those Rich Tea biscuits yesterday could have been avoided, but I'm fretting again, so I'll stop right now. 

My week on (and off) the bike...

It's Thursday afternoon, 30 September, almost 1400hrs, and there's a blustery wind blowing up outside. The skies are grey and the temperature has dropped, not considerably, but enough to make people start talking about winter. I'm hoping that in around two hours I'll be out on the bike, riding the Washpond Weeble, a 12.5 mile ride. With a bit of luck I'll be out on Friday too and then, if the rain holds off, a ride to Westerham will round off my week on Saturday. There is talk of rain at the weekend, but I'm hoping that 'abort' texts will be off the agenda. On Sunday, as long as it's not horrendous conditions, I'll probably pack a towel and get out there. In essence, I'm hoping for a respectable 70 miles this week, unlike last week's rides, which totalled just over 60 miles.

Westerham Costa, 2nd October 2021

So far this week I've put in over 22 miles on a ride to Westerham to meet Andy on Sunday. We did what we always do: sit outside and chill for half an hour or so before heading home. I rode up Titsey Hill again and then home via Washpond Lane, a kind of Westerham Weeble if you will. The outward ride was straight up the 269. On Sundays it's fine as there's not much in the way of traffic.

Damp cycling shorts

But let's get back to Thursday 30 September and my afternoon ride. It never happened. The rain started and my cycling shorts had been put in the wash and were wet, cold and damp, so I stayed in the house, glad in a way that I hadn't been caught out as there's a chill in the air now and things are starting to look unpleasant, unlike in the summer when, I recall, I rode to Knockholt and it tipped down. I remember standing outside the general stores in the centre of the village eating a Snickers bar in the rain and then cycling along Main Road towards Sundridge Lane and then Pilgrims.

It's now Friday morning, just gone 0700hrs and a day of work looms, but hopefully, either at lunch time or this afternoon, I'll be riding the Weeble. In all honesty, I have to ride today and then head for Westerham tomorrow to equal last week's piss poor performance of just over 60 miles. Let's see what transpires.

What transpired was a pleasant ride through the country lanes towards Washpond Lane, but instead of turning right and following the usual route I rode the length of Beech Farm Road until I reached the 269 where I turned left and headed for Botley Hill. I rounded the roundabout and then hung a left on to The Ridge, which took me into Woldingham, down Slines Oak Road and then up the steep hill at the end, which found me back on the 269 and heading home, a total of 17.43 miles.

The weatherman says it will rain

It's now Saturday morning and I awoke thinking there would be rain hammering down on next door's flat roof extension, but no, there's nothing. In fact, it looks like a very pleasant morning as the clock races towards 0800hrs. The big question is this: do I risk going out? Do I risk riding to Westerham? Do I put in a quick Weeble? Or do I sit here, let the rain come and forget about it? It's a tough choice, but in the end I decided to head for Westerham, bugger the rain, not that there was any, well, not until I was safely ensconced in Costa Coffee sipping a large paper mug of English breakfast tea. It had started to drizzle as I rode past the garage just prior to arriving in central Westerham, although that word 'central' sounds wrong as Westerham isn't very big, it's just a sleepy high street and nothing much on either side. But it started to rain and it didn't bother me because it wasn't cold. I sat in my favourite seat looking out at the high street and the chemist across the road offering free flu jabs while you wait. Not for me. I know too many people who had a flu jab and then felt terrible for days afterwards, probably because they had the flu, so what's the point in that? I've been double-jabbed for Covid.

Cosy in Costa in Westerham...

Eventually I decided it was time to head home, but I noticed that something was wrong with Strava. It hadn't recorded my outward journey and it was all to do with something that happened yesterday when I was planning on cycling to Waitrose to do a spot of shopping. At present we don't have a car, or rather we can't use the car because there's no petrol in the tank. There's no petrol in the tank because there aren't enough HGV drivers to deliver it to the petrol stations and this, by and large, is to do with Brexit and a lack of drivers, most of whom have buggered off back to Europe where, of course, the conditions for lorry drivers are far superior than in the UK. That cunt of a Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, knew that problems were brewing back in June, but like with the pandemic, he dithered and as a result there are huge queues for petrol where most of the noise from the general public, no doubt, comes from those Brexiteers who thought the UK was something greater than the reality. We didn't get a trade deal with the USA (and rightly so). Just one look at Johnson and Biden must have thought (like most people would): 'what a fucking cunt!'. I mean, look at the man if you need evidence, he's an absolute wanker of the highest order and he and his merry bunch of arseholes (Priti Patel, Dominic Raab, Michael Gove and others) are in charge of the country. Anyway, no petrol. I know for a fact that if I attempt to drive to the gas station the car will conk out before I get there, meaning that the only option is to take a jerry can and walk to the gas station, walk back, fill up the tank and then queue for petrol like everybody else. But bearing in mind that the UK is full of ignorant nutters, the sort of people who believed that slogan on the bus that Johnson was pedalling to everybody, there will be lots of moaning and shouting when I arrive with a jerry can. First, if you're on foot, you can't very well queue in the road behind a car, so I would have to just walk past the irate drivers and, well, who wants the aggravation. My plan is to let it calm down, which will take a few days and then try and sort things out.

Chilling in Costa Coffee

Where was I? Oh yes, in Westerham drinking tea. I sat there for all of 20 to 25 minutes and just day dreamed, watching passers-by and listening to the chilled out music that Costa Coffee pipes through the place. The women behind the counter don't know the names of the artists because apparently the music is piped from some central location, presumably to all outlets, but all I can say is this: it's chilled. I kept thinking about one day cycling here with my laptop and spending time online, blogging, perhaps, eavesdropping on conversations, drinking tea and possible munching on a cookie or a cake. Talking of cakes, theoretically I could have enjoyed one today as my challenge was to keep off the cakes for the month of September and today it was Saturday 2 October. But I resisted, mainly because I didn't want to break the spell and get back to chocolate bars and cinnamon brioche buns, not to mention millionaire's shortbread. So the tea was fine and when it was finished I left the Costa and took a brief look inside a charity shop that had opened (or reopened) across the street. It was the usual scene: old clothes probably removed from the houses of dead people, odd bits of clutter and even old shoes. There was a pair of walking shoes, or trainers, my size, going for £7.50 and for a minute I seriously thought about buying them. Dead man's shoes, or not as the case may be, but then I thought, I'm not THAT desperate, surely? I'm not that desperate so I walked out empty-handed, mounted the bike and headed home. 

It rained all the way home

Because Strava hadn't recorded my outward ride, I set it to record the return journey and vowed to repeat the outward ride so that I could simply double up the distance and get the exact distance travelled. It turned out to be 12.08 miles from Westerham's Costa Coffee to my house, so that's 24.16 miles in total, not bad, certainly more than last week's mileage. It rained all the way back but it wasn't cold and if I'm honest I quite enjoyed it. The return route meant riding up the hill, turning left on to Pilgrims just past the Velobarn and then heading up the hill towards Botley, but not quite going that far. I had to turn right on to Beddlestead, sail down the length of it and then crank down the gears as Hesiers Hill approached. Hesiers isn't a problem, I rode up it without losing a breath and when I reached the top I followed Church Lane and eventually found myself at Warlingham Sainsbury's where I turned right, rode into Warlingham and then along the Limpsfield Road towards Sanderstead. Cars were still queuing for petrol as I passed the Shell garage next to Waitrose.

It was good to reach home and it was even better knowing that my original intention (of not going cycling because of the rain) had been completed reversed. Not only did I go out and ride over 24 miles, I beat my mileage from the previous week and it felt good. That said, my planned Weeble on Thursday never materialised, so last week, like the week before, I only rode out three times (Sunday, Friday and Saturday). The reason I didn't ride on Thursday was because my cycling shorts had been put in the wash and were wet when I went to put them on. In a way I was relieved, but in other ways it was a shame as the weather was relatively okay. It rained, if I recall, around 1730hrs so there's a chance I would have been caught out, but that wasn't top of mind at the time. I just didn't go, which was annoying. Still, I redeemed myself this morning and that's good enough for me. Tomorrow it's Westerham to meet Andy and the start of yet another cycling week.

Lots of walking

One last word about other forms of exercise. I didn't ride the bike Monday through Wednesday because of work, but on Tuesday and Wednesday I did a lot of walking, on average around four miles per day. I might have said this before, but walking is far more knackering than cycling. When I come back off a ride I feel energised and ready for anything. I'll happily make the dinner and wash up, for example. But after a walk I'm dead to the world, as weary as hell and in need of a sit down, a lie down, even. Either way it's all good exercise.