Then it’s Berkley Square. This is my costume cut off point in front of the US Embassy. One of the very few Embassies worldwide not owned by the State Department, this example is rented from the Duke of Westminster at a very solid commercial rent. I strip; I’ve had enough of sweat and fake fur and the rubber mask. The Indonesians and Americans can have my ass, because the very best bit is just around the corner. Park Lane southbound is a gentle downhill, four or five lanes wide and devoid of traffic, so from being packed into mass or wheels and legs on one lane we are suddenly all spaced out and very very free: naked, light and flying. I tear off down Park Lane weaving between the riders who call out, “Monkeyyyyy! You took it off!” This twenty-second blast is by far the best bit—there’s nobody much on the pavement, the road is immaculate, we fly... It is delicious. I weave, scraping my skids, people laugh, it’s just a moment to kiss.
Round Marble Arch and onto the grass to flop and wonder what to do next. I always want to go straight back and do it again—only much much faster.
Riding an armchair in the town is not a great way to move fast, you can’t run between vehicles, you can flip it about much. But it has huge cachet, people love it, break up laughing. I’m beset by unattached women who want to pose, who ask where why and how and who claim it is the sexiest most desirable bike they’ve ever laid eyes on. Dario Pegoretti, we are brothers.
For more info visit www.worldnakedbikeride.org