Faster Than I Deserve

Somewhere between winter and now I quietly stopped moving. Football, swimming, cycling—all of it just fell away. Sport is murder became the operating philosophy by default, which would be fine if the gut weren’t starting to make its presence known.

My solution to this, characteristically, is not to simply go outside but to fixate obsessively on one specific object. The Charge Plug—the most beautiful bicycle I’ve seen, the one I want to use to cut through Berlin at speed—turns out to have been sold out for a long time. The guy at my bike shop nearly fell off his chair. Torn right out of their hands, he said. Absolutely beloved. Come back next year.

Next year. Right.

But here’s the thing: if this many Charge Plugs are apparently rolling around Berlin, someone out there must be done with theirs. Bored, broke, moved on to something else. If you have one, know someone who does, or are willing to commit minor theft on my behalf—get in touch.