This article is part of a series called ‘A love letter to…’, where Cycling Weekly writers pour praise on their favourite cycling items and share the personal connection they have with them. In this case, it is a break-up letter.
The below content is unfiltered, authentic and has not been paid for.
Reading some media or other at the weekend I came across a term ‘lessting’. A new one on me. It’s essentially the opposite of nesting, apparently. If nesting is building a home, lessting is realising you went way over the top when you were nesting and now you need to get rid of the inordinate amount of pointless detritus you accumulated over the years.
The lessting trend is apparently particularly popular among the 45-60-year-old Generation X, who have had plenty of time for stuff of all kinds to build up. But it’s fair to say that the practice of minimalism is gaining popularity among a variety of age groups.
The first place my mind travelled to when I read about lessting was my garage, and the cycling-related paraphernalia hoarded within. I’d be willing to bet that many of us who have been riding bikes for any length of time can relate.
Paring it all down, or at least getting rid of the stuff which is broken, pointless or unusable would be a great start. And I do realise that both the garage and my brain would look a lot less cluttered after a full-bore, root-and-branch clear out, but I’m not entirely sure I could do it.
I may be a particularly stubborn case. Yes, I’ll be happy to lay my hands on any new stuff that I can afford. But there is no one-in, one-out policy in place.
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I’ve worked at Cycling Weekly for 20-plus years, but don’t be labouring under the impression that it’s wall to wall super-bikes in round my place. Not a bit of it.
Let’s assess a few pieces of my collection for potential clear out purposes. Here we have an alloy box-section wheel in an obsolete 27 inches that hasn’t been used since around 1990. However, it’s handbuilt and features, as its centrepiece, the Sturmey Archer three-speed hub that was fitted to my first ‘proper’ bike. It’s a keeper, clearly.
And what’s this? A single Shimano 600 side-pull brake caliper, missing the barrel adjuster. I’ll never use it, but just look at its sleek and polished limbs. A thing of beauty. That’s going nowhere.
There’s a couple of bike locks missing keys, too. Keys that, you never know, one day I might find. There’s a small huddle of old, single, cheap and frankly knackered wheels. Maybe a couple of these could go. And a bar bag with a clamp design to fit an obsolete handlebar diameter that I bought 17 years ago. But it’s entirely unused, which makes it new, right? You don’t throw new things away.
I also have any number of boxes and tins of nuts and bolts and screws and things that I have no idea what they do. But you never know when they’re going to come in handy.
Clearly, I could go on.
This is what I’m up against, and I’ll level with you – as I’ve waded through the hoard, I’ve changed my mind. Consider this not a break-up letter, but a love letter to four decades’ worth of much cherished junk. Still, if you’re reading this in your twenties or thirties, heed the warning.
