urbanism
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We love cargo bikes. The way they transform your life – making the school run, big shop, or impromptu picnic feel effortless. But let’s be honest: they’re not cheap. Nor are they easy to store in the kinds of homes and flats many of us live in.So, inspired by the creations of Heath Robinson, we decided to build our own cargo trailer. Our aim? To create something big enough to carry serious stuff, easy to store when not in use – and ideally, something that doesn’t scream “steal me” to opportunistic thieves. Enter the wheelie bin trailer.
Well, here’s a plot twist no one saw coming: James May – yes, that James May – has finally said what many of us have been shouting into traffic fumes for years. Cars don’t belong in cities. Not just that they’re a bit annoying, or need managing – but that, deep down, they simply don’t fit.
Have you ever noticed the creeping infestation of metal utility boxes colonising Britain’s pavements? Officially, they house all manner of mysterious infrastructure – cables, pipes, the dreams of long-forgotten transport ministers. Unofficially? Well, it turns out some of them are hiding an altogether more interesting secret.
Each spring, as the frost thaws, Britain’s roads reveal their battle scars. Potholes are back in the headlines, a seasonal spectacle of cracked asphalt and political posturing. This isn’t just an annual grumble - it’s a worsening crisis. Roads are crumbling under the weight of ever-larger vehicles, and while councils scramble to patch the damage, the holes reappear faster than they can be filled.
The urban car is about as well-suited to the modern metropolis as a hippopotamus to a studio flat. Summer streets sag under its weight, our air thickens with its exhalations of nitrogen oxides and soot, and all the while, the creature demands more - more space to move, more space to rest. The sheer spatial absurdity of it: Each steel-and-glass sarcophagus idling for hours, occupying far more square footage than the bodies it transports. And yet, bizarrely, we persist.
