"Finally, I ask the opinion of a senior diner at the Chelsea Kitchen restaurant on the King's Road, who always hails my Brompton and me like comrades in arms. He tells me an old army joke.
A paratrooper jumps out of his plane and pulls the ripcord. Nothing. He pulls the back-up cord. Again, no chute appears. As he hurtles to the ground he says: "It'll be just my luck now if I can't get the bike open."
And with that the whole Brompton experience folded neatly into place."
Missed this article by Dominic Swords in the Financial Times before Christmas. Good piece on the folding way, and Bromptons in particular.
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