Brompton’s & Other Pretend Bikes

It began with someone shouting “Let’s take the Bromptons!” like that was a normal sentence and not a cry for help.

Our gang assemble outside Southchurch café, each clutching their weapon of choice:

With a collective click-clack-snap, the folding arms of our “bikes” extend like Transformers. Everyone will only be able to look on in awe. Jealousy springs to mind.

Off we go —a slow-moving peloton of highly-caffeinated absurdity, to weave our way along the Southend promenade. People will point and ask, “Are they real bikes?” While others will whisper, “No, they’re pretend bikes, the Bromptons are the real bikes.”

At 8mph we will tackle the gradient like a climb in Mallorca, as we make our way to the Serendipitous Cafe for a caffeinated refuel.

We hit the cycle path proper—palms swaying, the sea glittering—and relish the feel of the new tarmac beneath our wheels on the recently upgraded ‘Tour…