Rollers and Rock
Posted on Monday 19 November 2007 by Nick Bloom
8 o’clock Saturday night, Shoreditch is warming up. A gaggle of secretaries from the ‘burbs, a muscle of lads up town. Wallowing stretch limos, glowering doorman. And mingling amongst, cyclists in civvies. Heading towards the Classic Car Club, a fantasy for those with unrequited childhood dreams of continental exotica. Even a Ducati 250 Desmo - if this means nothing, let it be. Inside the gates rack upon rack of bikes, guarded by a grunting sentinel. As per the moment, most are one cog machines. Deep rims, gaudy colours, tiny bars. Brakes an afterthought or absent.
Within the garage, the band is on. Good fun rock. Loud. Beer. The inevitable Rapha broomwagon (it is their party). Hopefuls try their luck to the side, but looming over all is the boxing ring, two Condors up on rollers, the giant timing clock between. The crowd is shuffling, looking for familiar faces whilst gently bopping to the beats. Couriers (male and female), roadies, style riders. Moustaches rule.
A few more numbers, and the main event. Two in the ring, one on one, from the teams - couriers, journos, media nodes and … the Dutch.
500m. legs spin. Keep the rhythm. Pump to the DJ beat. Keep going. 250m left. Veins pulse. Eyes stare. Stop. Round One and half are out, with a hug from loser to winner.
The turn up tyros have their day. nothing to lose. Then the women, grim and determined. Next round, more tunes, semi’s and finals. The couriers may have won the day, but the fastest time was from one of the outsiders, beating two minutes (and celebrating with a quick fag after).
Yet again Rapha show how to bring the vibe back to cycling. Maybe all comes around, but sometimes a gentle prod helps. Thanks to them for a great night.