In response to my lampooning of lame musicians cashing in on the bike craze with this post, readers including the inimitable Luke MacLachlan in London and my ol’ buddy Scoop, have been sending me links to brilliant bike songs, or at least brilliant songs with bikes in the film clips. I guess I aught to put together a playlist on Youtube to project on a wall at my housewarming party.
You heard me correctly, Dr. Behooving has moved to an even more behooving locale. This fine craftsman built edifice, circa 1940, has aperiodic geometries, anticipating architectural trends of some fifty years hence. Legend has it that the original owner, for whom it was built, suffered form the dreaded TB and thus avowed any tight corners in which germs would be able to fester. One advantage of early twentieth-century hospital plans to the modern illuminated home owner, is no rectangular space exists underneath in which to later jam a garage. The house has a garage, with an automatic opening door, but it is shaped such that it only fits bikes.
Recently the new owner [I'm referring to myself in the 3rd person] discovered, upon returning home from dropping his son off at school, that the garage’s octagonal main space matches the turning diameter of a long bakfiets. Oh what serendipity! He wishes to declare before his Primrose makes any wild accusations, that he honestly had no way of knowing their car would not fit under this house. Nor could he have known there would be room for twice as many bikes as he now owns, perhaps as many as 40.
Winding down through the catacombs beneath this fine tuberculosis centre, designed around the turning circle of a Dutch cargo bike with aperiodic geometries, one finds a very fine room (pronounced “rom”), that the new owner has converted into a bike rom. A secret bike rom, for his most precious collection, where he spends his evenings playing with allen keys, photographed here for your enjoyment using the technique popularised by David Hockney.