Some time in the early years of this century a new kind of bicycle, or rather tricycle, appeared on the roads around me. They were big, heavy things with open wooden boxes bolted on the front. In these boxes sat a small child or two being transported to or from nursery or primary or prep school. In the saddle perched a pedalling parent, red of cheek and heavy of breath. The determined look on their faces conveyed something along the muttered lines of: “This is a good idea, the right thing to do – good for the kids and good for me,” repeated with every revolution of the pedals.
To my mind, though undoubtedly noble in purpose, these machines were a worry. They looked a bit Heath Robinson to me, like something my dad might have cobbled together for my brother and me to lark about with. The kids in the box always looked so vulnerable, sitting there at white-van exhaust-pipe height. And unless the parent was super-fit, pedalling miles every morning, I couldn’t see how they were an alternative to car use. More likely they were an alternative to walking. Not for me.
Over the years these things have proliferated, some with electric motors, looking a bit fancier, sporting boxes made of nicer wood or some technical fabric, perhaps with rain hoods. I’d stopped noticing them, but out walking with the dog one day last month, I saw one for sale outside a bike shop. I glanced at the price tag, walked on, did a double take, and took a closer look. I was having trouble with some new contact lenses, so I gave my eyes a bit of a rub to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. £3,999! I swear even the dog stood stock still and went “Huh?” in the manner of Scooby-Doo. I scanned the pavement in case a decimal point had fallen off, but no joy. Four grand! Who knew?
And now all I see is cargo bikes, which I notice fall into two categories. There are the four-grand ones, pedalled by (obviously) affluent parents. But most of them, probably just as expensive, are ridden by the decidedly unaffluent, slogging around being paid peanuts to supply the affluent with takeaways and assorted other essentials of modern life.
Adrian Chiles is a broadcaster, writer and Guardian columnist
