Bikes for many a moon have been marketed to us punters to make us feel like we are buying a bike that breathes fire, shakes buildings, makes us kings of the road. When we ride down the high street we expect small children & the elderly to dive for cover otherwise they would just explode due to our sheer biking toughness. A sort of Chuck Norris on wheels.
We buy bikes with macho names, the sort of names they give to jet fighters.
We can, if we so wish, spend huge wads of cash making our bikes louder/faster/more gaudy & out do anything on the road. You can buy leather outfits that cost a fortune that make you look like A) an imperial stormtrooper or B) a power ranger C) a gay.
But, and it’s a “big” but, once a year we have to make the pilgrimage to the local post office, hand over 60 odd quid, for some mere mortal to pop this bubble of biking godliness we have bought into, by giving us a small paper disc with the details of our road going behemoths & in capital letters they write that we actually own a “bicycle”, not the high powered jet bike we thought we owned or the kind of machine Judge Dread rides. And to add insult to injury we are expected to display this fact on our “bicycles” for the world to see, so they can laugh & mock us openly in the street.
I bought mine yesterday, and to be honest I felt quite deflated when I left the counter.
When you read reviews of Easy Rider, do they says it’s a film about hippies on bicycles? No. When Rob Halford of Judas Priest rides that Harley on stage & screams “Hell bent for leather”, do the crowd shout “ooh, look at that big bicycle”, No.
I don’t ride a “bicycle”, that’s what local policemen, district nurses & people with clips around the bottom of their trousers ride.
Perhaps I should start one of those government petitions to have this travesty changed!!
It’s an outrage I tell you!! 
I wasn’t even asked where the disc was…