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The Brit novelist reveals his love of the Brompton in Saturday’s Independent:
It was love at first sight – the first time I saw a Brompton folding bicycle, I fell in love with it. And it was not so much love – an emotion, I concede, that unless you’re seriously perverted, only truly exists between sentient beings – as a kind of lusty covetousness; but, you can take it from me, it was a very strong feeling, and one that has only increased over the years I’ve either had a Brompton between my thighs, or hefted one in my arms.
And if you feel tempted at this point to cast my piece aside, unread, on the quite reasonable grounds that not only do you not like bicycles, or cycling, but you especially revile the ghastly middle-aged-mannish gadget obsession that you already feel emanating from my prose in great waves, then I say: desist! Give me a chance! Read on, and if I can’t convince you by the end of these 2,000 words that a Brompton folding bicycle is not only a superior means of locomotion, and a perfect antidote to the stresses of the modern world, but also a means of achieving a deeper harmony with place and culture than you’ve hitherto achieved, then I personally guarantee to come round to your house and sort out your old Allen keys – or something like that.
And here’s the rest of the article…