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Brett Kennedy, Founding Contributor / Editor

Whilst Brett hails from the land Down Under, he hates that fucking song. An Aussie now living as a Kiwi, he is at home on the rich dirt of New Zealand's mountain bike trails as he is on the scorching tarmac of Australia. Despite his geographical disadvantage, the cobblestones and kassien of Belgium and Northern France hold a special place in his heart and it's where you'll find him each Spring, either with a bike underneath him or a fine Belgian ale in his hand.

The Spandex Ballet

by brett / Oct 29 2014 / 77 posts

What does the layman observe when he sees a cyclist in the wild? While we do our utmost to Look Fantastic, in our own eyes and minds at least, outside observers may as well be witnessing little green aliens who’ve just stepped off their spacecraft and are heading to their very first fancy dress/drag party on this weird and wonderful planet...
A great unknown awaits the young men, bound by a common entity of steel, flesh and passion rolled together. Do they contemplate the future, or are they so encapsulated in the here and now that anything beyond the finish line seems like it could only be for old people? Have they any inkling which path they will take, or be guided towards? Maybe...
Life is full of surprises. Some you don’t want, like a funnel web in a shoe, while others are completely unexpected but more than welcome, even if you are then left with figuring out the hows, whys and HOW?s of the serendipitous conundrum now presented to you.This is how I now feel, after fate knocked at my door via a source that doesn’...
This article started off as a Reverence for the Camelbak Podium, and might still be, who knows, it’s late and my mind is scrambled. As often happens when searching for a suitable image for an article, tangents often appear from nowhere and derail the original train of thought. Soon one finds oneself careening out of control towards the only...
Cycling is a sport steeped in the tradition of style. There’s no denying it. From the days of miners and farmers escaping the hardships of a life spent toiling in harsh and filthy conditions either under or above ground, through Coppi and his Cosa Nostra-esque garb and swagger, Merckx and De Vlaeminck’s 70s sideburns, to Cipo and his...

Vetting The Fred

by brett / Sep 17 2014 / 99 posts

I don’t mean to sound bitter, cold, or cruel, but I am, so that’s how it comes out. - Bill Hicks That famous quote from the Greatest Comedian Of All Time™ has resonated with me for many years. It became my silent mantra, as I don’t suffer fools gladly and sometimes don’t make much effort to conceal the fact. Lately, I̵...

When Kits Were Cool

by brett / Sep 1 2014 / 111 posts

The modern day Pro cyclist has many disadvantages stacked against them by comparison to their forefathers. They have to ride plastic bikes with little or no distinguishing character or discernible caché; they must willingly or perhaps unwittingly subject their body to an array of questionable “training techniques”; and they have to sp...
Cyclists love socks. I know I do. I’d make a point of collecting as many pairs as I could from every race, event, shop or rep that I ever happened upon. Some were so good that I still have them, others, well, let’s just say they were “re-homed” long before they got the chance to retire gracefully after years of loyal service...

End of an Error

by brett / Aug 20 2014 / 123 posts

Jens Voigt is set to retire as we speak, having one final crack at a long break in some race in the Cycling backwater of the USA. Is it fair or fitting that he should go out like this, slipping out the back door with little fanfare, while others have been doing a farewell tour of all the big races, replete with fancy commemorative shoes and a son...
Never forget your roots, they say… OK, I’m a child of the 70’s, and back then bicycles were as big a part of my life as they are today. We’d always be out riding, building tracks and jumps, and tinkering with our Dragsters, stripping them down to emulate our motocross heroes, with varying results.All these memories came f...