FROM THE FRONT
Time was, Gentle Reader, that I would pride myself and bore my friends with my noted status as a year-round rider. Heroic, me, as I'm (almost) certain you'll agree. You might also prefer the adjective ‘foolish’, but that's less flattering. In any case, it's easy to be a year-round rider when you lack alternative wheels - when the Better Third is using the car, for example. I would shake, rattle and roll my way off a couple of dozen miles to meet increasingly amused pals for lunches. Something the shaking (mine, not the bike's) would be over by the time the hot food arrived … but not always. Lots of coffee, washed down with that impossibly inevitable wave of elation - the rattling may have been my teeth clattering together, but…