I work in one of those classy little coffee shops. No-one looks twice at the busboy, but I see them sneer at my bike. It’s okay, because I laugh at them too, in their pink lycra and fancy gear. They take themselves so seriously, these weekend Lance Armstrongs. They don’t laugh so hard when I overtake them on the road home. No gears, no iPod, no steroid juice, no shaving my legs. My old bike and me, we travel 100kms a day from the township to suburbs. She cost me 25 bucks from Bhani’s. You can call her retro, I call her my wheels, my Audi TT.
– For the international readers – an Audi TT is a South African township term for a man without a car – Audi Ten Toes.