The Cycling Collection

I cycled from Istanbul to Paris with Brenton and Muzz. It took five months.

A few hours before Laurent Fignon tore through the arrondissements of Paris to win the Tour de France my mate Brenton and I slipped into a small hotel just down from the Moulin Rouge and immediately scurried off to the Champs Elyesees to watch the great race. We arrived with far less fanfare, but shared the winner's sense of triumph - after all, we had a few more kilometres under our belts than Laurent!

As a child the 'treadly' was the freedom machine that took us to our friend's houses and into the foothills to creeks and old mines that begged for exploration.

I'm older now, but the push bike is still a real and symbolic freedom machine that I push madly around with an equally infuriated lycra-clad peleton of devotees on a Sunday morning.

When I pull up for a coffee at the end of a hard ride, I slouch into my chair and sweat with a true champion's insolence. I could be Lauren Fignon, but he's probably got a few more kilometres under his belt than me by now.

See the Cycling Collection

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