Blow out

Last ride of 2007, and a bizarrely annoying way to end a bizarre year. Five laps of Richmond Park in low-heart-rate mode are brought to an end with the familiar weaving from the front wheel which indicates a slow puncture.

As I unwind the quick-release (with a silent prayer of thanks to Tullio Campagnolo and his frozen fingers on the Croce d'Aune) I reflect that I've done pretty well for punctures this year -- this is the first time I've had to take the Aksiums off since fitting them back in the Spring.

It will be a matter of moments to strip off the tyre, remove the offending tube, check for flints, half-fit the tyre, pull out a new tube, attach the shiny C02 canister and inflate just a little for installation.

Nothing. Not a single squirt. The CO2 canister that I have faithfully carried in my jersey for a year is, perhaps not surprisingly, completely empty.

After five minutes cursing everything imaginable, including my own stupidity -- I stand in the road clutching a wheel and looking hopeful for passing cyclists. This is Richmond Park, so I don't have to wait long. The first to stop, from London Dynamo, is apologetic -- he only has a single CO2 canister but offers, if I'm still stuck next time he comes round, to give it to me.

Another rider leaves me his mini-pump, with instructions to hide it behind a road sign so he can pick it up later.

In the next five minutes, I'm asked at least ten times whether I'm OK, or need any assistance -- a reassuring reminder that solidarity and comradeship among cyclists is not dead. Or perhaps I just look particularly hopeless.

My training plans go out of the window as I'm forced to time-trial the rest of the park and the South Circular in order to get home in time.

Time to reflect on the slightly worn state of the GP3000's and consider their replacement. I've heard bad reports of the new GP4000; so pretty soon I'm on-line, ordering a set of Vittoria Pave's.

And a mini-pump.

Happy New Year

Just what I always wanted

Matt Seaton wrote entertainingly in the Guardian this week about Christmas and cyclists -- specifically about buying presents for your cycling significant other. In paraphrase, his point is "don't bother". Cyclists are devious, capricious and selfish. If they haven't already got a cycling-related object, they probably don't want it. If they do want it, they've probably already bought it for themselves -- and lied to you about how much it cost.

He's probably right, although there are some things that few cyclists would turn down if they were found in their stockings. With the weather turning icy in London this past week, my thoughts have been turning to an Assos jacket -- perhaps the Airblock 851, or even the outrageously expensive FuguJack. Incidentally, is the name FuguJack a Fuentes-style reference to Tony Rominger's dog, or a rare example of the world-famous Swiss humour?

And Rapha's pink, chain-print kit bag is so utterly wrong it's completely right.

Campagnolo's full toolkits are hard to find but still the holy grail for spanner-monkeys everywhere. I've already got all the Campag tools I need -- the others in the kit are either obsolete or only relevant if you're pressing twenty headsets a day -- but who wouldn't want the polished wood box as a workshop centrepiece?

You can't go wrong with socks -- no cyclist ever has enough - as long as they're short and white, with no pretence at coloured faux-pro or, heaven forbid, long and black like Armstrong.

Slightly more left-field, how about scouring E-bay for a musette or two? Always useful rolled up in your jersey pocket for those last-minute on the road purchases. Tim Hilton recommends carrying a musette to store edible road kill -- in his book "One more kilometre and we're in the showers", he talks fondly of pedalling home from a country run with a still-warm hare on his back.

Incidentally, if you've never read Tim's book, do so immediately. It's eccentric, discursive and hugely enjoyable -- every page packed with a love of bikes and life.

Francophones should check out the Caverne Du Sport for old copies of Miroir Cyclisme and the like. Even if you don't speak French, the photos and adverts are wonderfully atmospheric.

And finally, how about some home-made recycled bike trinkets? The Nuovo Record key-ring was sourced from my parts bin, but the classic pie-crust levers are cheap and plentiful through E-bay or bike jumbles. A bit of solder and some silver wire and your significant cyclist could be sporting a fetching pair of lightweight earrings.