I took the deckchair – 15 miles, bit of a shakedown run, comprising fast A-roads, unclassifieds, forest tracks, pothole-laden gravel roads, steep climbs, cycle paths and urban.

The ride is quite bizzare – a synthesis of cycle, motorbike and car, with a moderate sensation of speed consequent to being only about four inches off the ground.

The best bit was hurtling down a dirt road and getting the back out – going “sideways” as Clarkson would put it – around a left hand bend; scratching, grit flying, leaning hard into the bend, and then the rear finds grip beyond the momentum you’re carrying and suddenly you’re away.

Really, if you still have an ounce of seven-year-old-kid in your psyche, you need one of these things… Absolutely need.

My legs are like jelly, and kudos to Rack & Grum for teabreak provisioning. The cleats on my Northwave boots need torquing, and I suspect a tiny amount of adjustment is due for the jockey on the derailleur – but aside from that, perfect.

Oh, and traffic? One odious chavvy turd who honked at me for having the audacity to exist and to be dominating my lane when approaching a roundabout to turn right – who then revved his engine loudly, only to turn left. Silly little tit.

Other than that, everyone treats you like a small car. Kids especially are both gobsmacked and jawdropped, and track you like they’ve got radar lock. Small dogs haven’t the nerve to attack – they don’t know what you are, either.

Fun++. Now, a celebratory pint!