Why I’ve fallen out of love with my Brompton

In the darkest depths of lockdown, trapped in a subterranean flat in South London, I struck upon an idea: I would buy a bike. I’d had one at university and remembered enjoying the meditative effects of gliding through parks and down streets. It would mean something to do other than fighting over who got to work at the kitchen table or staring mutely at our little telly. 

I met the seller in a multi-storey car park in Woolwich. He popped his trunk, revealing a jumble of metal tubing and cables about the size of a suitcase: a foldable Brompton bicycle. As he lugged it onto the concrete floor, Taut explained that he loved the bike but had just bought a super-lightweight, modified Brompton. It was time to part ways. He encouraged me to unfold it as I stared, bewildered, at this miracle of engineering. ‘Open up the handlebar stem first,’ he said, ‘then unclip the seat post and raise it up to your hips’.