Aug 20 2011
From Sidebar to Center Stage:
Over the Hills (and Not Too Far Away) With the Bike Brothers
Now shall I walk
Or shall I ride?
“Walk,” Pleasure said;
“Ride,” Joy replied.
Adapted from a poem by W.H. Davies,
with the hope that his spirit will excuse certain liberties
Note to readers in a hurry: Want to skip the throat-clearing and get right to the heart of the story? Then just click here.
Most cycling writers fall into one of three camps. There are the Purveyors of Good Advice, whose words mostly add up to a collection of “shoulds”: You should always ride with traffic. You should wear a helmet. You should never leave home without a spare tube. You should refrain from overtightening kickstand clamp-bolts. Et-bleeding-should-certa. There’s really nothing wrong with this, of course. Good advice is often badly needed—and not just by beginners. In fact, since I’m a professional Purveyor of this necessary commodity myself in another place, these folks are my tribe. Most of the time, anyway.
Then there are the Hard Men (and Hard Women, of course): racers and would-be racers and people who simply dream about racing. Their contributions to the cycling literature tend to run to long disquisitions about diet, training regimens, and various performance-enhancing substances—I’m thinking strong coffee and flavored gels here, not EPO—punctuated by whoops of elation (on happy “chainless” days) and spasms of despair (on those days when their legs just aren’t there). And now I’ll tell you a secret. Though I’m no racer, I confess to sneaking into the Hard Persons’ tent from time to time, if only because I’m fascinated by the spectacle and history of stage races like the Tour and the Giro, not to mention the larger-than-life characters who figure so prominently in those epic contests. Is there a cycling buff whose heart doesn’t beat a little faster when he sees the Manx Missile launched, or who doesn’t marvel anew on watching an old film of the Cannibal devouring his peers during some grueling climb to an Alpine pass? I doubt it, and I’m no exception here.
Lastly, we have the Advocates. These are earnest souls to a man (there are few women Advocates, curiously), ardent evangels who preach the Gospel of Two Wheels to an indifferent world. Theirs is not a comfortable life. The plight of an Advocate in the Republic of Happy Motoring is particularly hellish. The early Christian martyrs had it easy by comparison. Which may help to explain why some Advocates—how can I put this gently?—lose their moorings altogether. Some see the humble bicycle helmet as an instrument of oppression, the spearpoint of a vast international motorist conspiracy. Others urge—no, demand—that cyclists forswear specialist clothing like Lycra shorts and brightly-colored jerseys in favor of “everyday” wear such as stiletto heels and cocktail dresses and flowing scarves. (I’m not sure if that dictum is intended just for women cyclists. Maybe not.) All this in the name of promoting two-wheel travel. And good luck to them, I say. Though I do think every Novice of the Order should be required to wear stiletto heels while cycling in urban traffic for at least a month before he is formally invested with an Advocate’s alb and cassock…
My apologies. I see by that last “should” that I’m in danger of reverting to type, of returning to my occasional role as a Purveyor of Good Advice. Which is too bad, since I meant to write something very different. And now I will. First, though, I have another confession to make: The foregoing paragraphs are less than exhaustive. There aren’t just three camps of cycling writers. There are four. But there’s a reason for my earlier reticence on this point. The fourth camp is so small as to be almost unnoticed. Which is a shame, because it’s the most interesting by far, as well as the most important. What, then, is this secret society of cycling scribblers? They’re the Lovers of Bicycles and Bicycling. Their patron saint, if they have one, might well be an almost unknown writer, Daniel Behrman, whose long out-of-print The Man Who Loved Bicycles is quite possibly the best book ever written about bicycles and bicycling.
But Behrman is dead. And who now holds the flaming torch aloft? My candidate is the Bike Brothers. The brothers in question are Nic and Andy Henderson, and their website is a simple, plain-spoken celebration of the joys of cycling. That explains its considerable charm. Nic and Andy don’t lecture. You’ll find few if any “shoulds” in evidence. Nor do they exhort. You’ll search in vain for tips on loading carbs or sculpting quads. And they leave the preaching to the preachers. You’ll hear no whispers concerning an international motorist conspiracy here. (In the interests of full disclosure, however, I suppose I ought to note that both brothers wear helmets when riding, and I see no evidence of stiletto heels or long scarves. But I still don’t think they’re in the pay of Big Oil.)
What will you find, then? Joy. A short word with a very long reach. Nic and Andy ride because they love to ride. That’s obvious in every word they write and every photo they upload. They ride in all weathers, on the road and off. And their rides begin and end at their garden gates. The Bike Brothers is a celebration of the joy of cycling, pure and simple.
And yet… There’s more here than meets the eye. The bike brothers have discovered a truth that’s eluded most of us. While you and I may think that the secret to having a good time is getting away from it all, putting as many miles between our homes and our holiday destinations as possible, Nic and Andy have found plenty to challenge and delight them on their doorstep. Literally. It certainly doesn’t hurt that they live in an uncommonly beautiful, preternaturally well-kept corner of the United Kingdom, of course. But that doesn’t mean those of us who dwell in lands less green and pleasant can’t follow in their wheel tracks. There’s joy to found everywhere. No landscape, however ravaged, is entirely devoid of mystery and interest. No urban wasteland, however squalid, has escaped being shaped by the currents of human history. And all such secrets are open to any cyclist, wherever he or she may live—if we will only look about us as we ride, that is.
The bike brothers do just that. They ride with their eyes open to the world and all its beauty. And then they share their discoveries with anyone who chooses to drop by. Therein lies a wellspring of joy.
Which is why I urge anyone and everyone reading this to drop in on Nic and Andy. If you’re already a cyclist, you’ll come away with a new perspective on riding. And if you’re not… Well, I won’t be surprised if you find yourself in your garage or basement someday soon, sizing up your old bike and wondering what it would take to make it roadworthy again, whistling cheerfully as you brush the cobwebs away.
That’s the thing about joy. It’s catching. So there’s not a moment to be lost. Catch the Bike Brothers. Today.
