Kevin Page: Lycra outshines couch potato

Earlier this week, in the middle of an icy blast that threatened to shrivel up any exposed bits, I went for a ride on my bike. It was not what I had wanted to do.

I had been quite happy blobbing on the couch, remote in one hand, coffee in the other, warm and cosy watching Wonder Woman on Sky.

Then my own Wonder Woman started up the vacuum cleaner.

I should explain that Mrs P is skilful and fastidious when it comes to using the machine.

She could represent New Zealand at the Vacuuming Olympics. Half-day efforts are not uncommon.

I'm sure the South Island hydro dams have to release a bit of extra water to turn into electricity each time she fires it up.

Once the familiar whirr of the beast landed on my little two-seater island, I knew it was pointless trying to dig in and stay.

"You've just bought that new winter riding jacket," said my vacuuming angel as I grumpily shuffled off. "Why don't you try it out?"

She was right. I had just shelled out for a new, shiny, sky blue replica jacket, festooned with advertising from a bygone era. And yes, it was a jacket for riding in winter.

To be honest though, I'd been a bit surprised by its "loudness" when I opened the courier parcel.

To avoid any embarrassment, I had decided I would sneak out early when nobody was around and then only if it wasn't too cold - a winter jacket it may be but nowhere on it does it say "only to be worn in freezing conditions by an idiot".

However, circumstances change and I experienced that millisecond of motivation that occurs occasionally and decided to hit the pedals.

On went the special red, white and blue Lycra riding shorts which leave little to the imagination but, by way of consolation, provide at least some padding to help on that most ridiculously designed of bike equipment, the seat.

Then on went the new jacket and off I went.

Along Te Ngae Rd, the jacket came into its own and repelled the wind chill factor with disdain. My top half was toasty.

Unfortunately the same could not be said of my bottom half and it became obvious as I reached the lakefront that remedial measures would need to be undertaken to protect some of the, er, equipment.

Luckily I had on a couple of layers under my new jacket so, quick as a flash, I removed a thin T-shirt and stuffed it down my shorts.

As I set off back down Fenton St, I realised this must be why you don't hear much about male porn stars cycling. It was awkward.

I looked down at one stage to make sure everything was intact ... and almost ran into the back of a car parked in the middle of the road.

Luckily I swerved just in time and made it around the offending vehicle.

My heart racing, I pulled over and dismounted, anxious to go back and make sure there hadn't been an accident or something. Unbelievably, the driver, an elderly gentleman, was sitting in his car reading a book.

As I ran towards him, he took one look at the agitated creature rushing forward in brightly coloured Lycra and bulging shorts and took off at speed.

I imagine he went home to deal with the shocking sight he had just witnessed.

Who knows? Maybe he's now thinking it would have been better if he had stayed at home on the couch too.