The first time I got on a racing bike, I was annoyed about it. In the corner of my parents barn was my knackered Haro BMX. The hideously warped front mag wheel had not miraculously unbent itself in the freezer and wouldn’t run through the fork. My bright yellow Holdsworth mountain bike was also out of commission, having not survived a drop off into a gravel pile at the village quarry. My mates were waiting for me, astride their various bicycles and I needed a ride. Leant up against the tea chests (I don’t know why we always had a hundred tea chests stacked up, we just did) was a racing bike. A pale blue Raleigh racing bike with downtube shifters, 10 gears and suicide brakes. They all laughed at me when I rolled out the gate on that, the fact that it was about six sizes too big for me probably didn’t help. One of many real world problems that come with being the youngest in a family of six by ten years. I had no idea how to change gear, the drops terrified me, I was bent over almost double and the skinny wheels convinced me that as soon as I turned a corner, I’d be sliding down the road alongside it on my arse. It became my favourite bike. I rode that bike to school right up until I left at 16.

Cycling wasn’t that important to me as a 12 year old. It was a method of transport and another way to piss about. We covered miles on our bikes and thought nothing of it. You listen to people making a big deal about getting 100 miles in in a week. I can almost guarantee you that during school holidays my cadre of pals and I regularly smashed that without even realising or logging it. All whilst riding utter shitpiles and without a gel or heart rate monitor sight. I’m certain the same can be said of similar groups of kids all over the world, even now.

That bike is long gone. I don’t recall when, where or why it disappeared. I can’t remember the model, groupset or tubing nor remember which member of my family it actually belonged to. However, when I got back into cycling I yearned for it.

Last summer I saw both a Colnago Master, a Tommasini and a Cinelli XCR in the flesh and it made me realise that I needed that throwback. There was no way I was going to drop the kind of money required to acquire either of those frames (I had just splashed out on a Bianchi Oltre Xr2 frame, give me a break) and it wasn’t really what I was after. What I was after was an old piece of shit that no-one had heard of. I wanted a bike that people might point at, wonder what it is and maybe even laugh, just like my mates did when I wobbled out my barn on that behemoth of a Raleigh. I then wanted to take that piece of shit and make it cool.

I found a 1986 Dancelli steel frame on eBay. Chrome forks – check. Chrome rear triangle – check. Obscure, long defunct Italian marque – check. Pantographings on the tubing – check. Utterly fucked – check. £90 secured it and it arrived a few days later. I fucking love it. I also have no idea what tubing it is as there is so little information available on them other than a few Italian catalogues. What I do know is that it’s Columbus steel. Probably lower rung stuff like Aelle.

I managed to track down a guy in Australia who created decals for shit old bikes and that was the point where I realised that this was going to spiral. I haven’t even ridden it and I love it as dearly as my old blue Raleigh. It’s in a box in the hall now. Stripped, cleaned, de-stickered and ready to go to Ellis Briggs cycles where it will be resprayed. I’m stupidly excited about that. When it comes back, it will be time to build it up. I’ll keep you updated how that goes.