Extollagy!

Every human being in the developed world should be issued a folding bicycle at birth. There is no better way to get around. Unlike a real bike, it goes on busses (where one meets the 13 and 73 year olds of a given place, a cross-section of the disposessed) and trains (no traffic jams, big views, and  – just occasionally, indeed increasingly rarely – plugs, space, silence) with ease. Its small wheels mean a bag of books-to-sell can swing ungainly from the handlebars as one careers down the Edgware Road, dipping into shops en route between mainline stations. Unlike a car, it don’t need parking, and slips through cities regardless. And like walking, it enables contact with the world, with the shape of a town and of the land that preceded it. And one can still make one’s connection with 30 seconds to spare, having recharged the laptop in a deserted fenland church.