Perhaps, to an extraterrestrial visitor, all cyclists are the same; functionally and morphologically identical; two legs, one head, two wheels, self-propelled, gyroscopically stabilised in one plane, inherently unstable otherwise. But that’s where the global fraternity of bicyclists begins and ends – on another planet. For cycling is as riven by tribal faction, subcultural one-upmanship and contrived mutual scorn as any human activity this side of popular music. Like any family, really. If you’re about to parachute into this Babel of bicycling and don’t know where to land, don’t worry; it will all fall into place. Unless you’re a genuine one-off…