DR HUTCH

When it comes to pumps, the Doc’s magpie-like behaviour knows no bounds, with shininess trumping usefulness every time

- Michael Hutchinson

You will have noticed that the big story of 2022 has already happened. It is, of course, Matej Mohoric’s seatpost winning Milan-San Remo, apparently unassisted. This caused wild celebrations among fans of dropper seatposts everywhere, who’ve endured an eternity as they waited for the first big road win.

Mohoric himself neatly avoided any overstatement afterwards, when he said that, “dropper seatposts are the future of cycling.”

All that being settled, I thought this would be the perfect time to discuss a closely related – and time-honoured – telescopic cylinder that has been in cycling since almost the start, and doesn’t get enough attention. That’s the conceptually very similar bicycle pump.

I am an incurable optimist when it comes to pumps. I believe, deep in my soul, that I’ll never need to inflate a tyre by the roadside. It won’t happen. Why the hell would I want to do that? As a consequence, and in much the same way most of us buy helmets on any criteria other than their ability to absorb an impact, I buy pumps on any basis at all apart from than their ability to put air in a tyre.

I buy them for their smallness. Their lightness. I bought what was just about the first mini-pump ever made from carbon-fibre, and no one who knows me was surprised. Nor would they have been surprised to discover that it didn’t even almost work. The first time I tried to use it was to rescue a rider I’d met stranded by the roadside. She ended up walking home anyway. Her remark, “Why don’t we just leave the valve open and maybe the air will blow in of its own accord?” was all the more hurtful for its accuracy.