Girl meets Brompton

Perhaps a bit about me: I am a Brompton convert and (now) obsessee. I love my Brompton to bits. It has become like a close friend to me.

My Brompton (nameless - maybe I should name it?) was bought off ebay, second hand, by my Dad and given to me for my 22nd birthday. I wasn't expecting one at all and, at the time, I didn't really think I would put one to good use. My Dad has a red one and has had it for years. It's served its purpose of going to London with Dad on the train every now and again and being a spare bike for guests. But apart from that, I just thought they were quite eccentric, male-commuter devices.

However, within a week of receiving my Brompton, I got a job working out in Northumberland and my plans for post-graduation completely changed. Instead of going back to live with my parents in Bristol, I was going to move to Newcastle and commute from there to the offices in Northumberland. There is a train station in the village I work in and so all of a sudden, the Brompton and I found ourselves very conveniently hitched. Since then, our bond has grown stronger and stronger. I wish I'd counted how many miles we've done together but needless to say, I have (almost) had my Brompton with me, folded and unfolded, every day since.

I now wax lyrical about Bromptons, ogle over their accessories and give a cheery smile to other Brompton-ers I pass. One day at Newcastle Central Station, I got chatting to another (female!) Brompton owner who was from London. She said Bromptons are so common-place in London that no one really looks twice at them, whereas up here in Newcastle, we are a small, smug group of cyclists and so we delight in seeing a fellow-folder-up-er and will smile, nod, wave, and sometimes (as has happened to me at least twice), stop and natter at lights. It's great.

Anyway, I could go on and on about how liberating and life-changing the Brompton is but I will resist for now and contribute separate posts on its all-round brilliantness.