So I’m out and about, hanging out with plant last night; standing in his backyard talking about the strange sort of stuff the cognoscenti tend to talk about, watching kids run about, assembling bicycles . . . you know, the usual.
Anyway, I’m standing there looking at a radio-flyer tricycle, we all know the one, classic design, I had one when I was a kid; but I’m standing there looking at this ubiquitous piece of childhood paraphernalia and it strikes me that this particular example has, very much like my own as a child, a marked difference between the aim of the handle-bars and the alignment of the front wheel.
