Since swapping the Concor saddle on my training bike for a leather one that matches my grip tape, I’ve noticed a change in the behaviour of cows. It was the case before that I could rest my bike against a farm fence for a model shoot, and cows would run away. However, now that my bike is sporting so much of their species’ hide, I’ve noticed our bovine friends’ instinct to flee is not as strong as their curiosity. You may find this morbid, but I believe they are admiring the tanning and level of craft. I want to tell them those tags on their ears say “Bound for Brooks, England,” but I can’t be so cruel; there is, after all, a very slight chance that cows understand yacking as well as just mooing. I would rather humans died believing they were going to heaven than for poor innocent mooeys to die with false hope of being turned into bike parts.
As you can see though, the proximity of farmlands for training rides is teaching me a lot about the ways of the land. Just as I did in architecture school, I’m learning by osmosis. After another year of just inhaling farm air, I’m sure I could give up this architecture racket and start a dairy. Watch out for Tasmanian cows milk flavoured goats milk, and 100% full cream Jersey bull milk, why not! And look our for my hide made into a saddle: I’m writing that request in my will—as I believe most of these guys would too: