Contrary to what Lance Armstrong once said, it’s all about the bike. Like most middle-aged men who pull on padded shorts and climb on to pedal-powered machines, for me the real appeal of cycling is in the bicycle itself and all the lovely shiny and stylish bits that go with it.

Of course it’s a great way to get from A to B, and keep fit and trim in the process. I love the feel of wind in my hair and lactic acid in my thighs, but what transforms a pushbike from a means of transport to an object of desire is all the kit. From carbon Campagnolo group-sets to merino wool Rapha jerseys, leather Brooks saddles, to titanium Litespeed frames, there’s just so much cool stuff to drool over.

The cycling tribe you join will determine what sort of hardware and bikewear you cherish. The minimalist machines and courier chic of the fixed-wheel urban rollers, the old school élan of a gentleman’s conveyance and plus-fours or, in my case, the full Tour de France fantasies encapsulated in a sleek road bike and racing gear.

Buying a good bike, ideally custom-made from one of the specialist high-end shops such as London’s Condor Cycles, where they’ll measure you and talk for hours about the sumptuous details of Derailleurs and front forks, and the pros and cons of asymmetric spokes, is as joyously intricate and impressively expensive as buying a Savile Row suit. It’s also just the beginning.

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Securing a slick steed to make your mates jealous is essential, but there’s always another even lighter, even faster new dream machine on the horizon. You’ll also need a tool kit of Nipple keys, tyre levers and pressure pumps for tinkering and polishing, but the real appeal for the middle-aged male cycle sucker is the gear. From rigid-soled shoes with cleats that clip into your pedals, to a lightweight aerodynamic helmet, you need to get a whole new wardrobe of such arcane apparel as leg warmers, overshoes and bib shorts.

You even need to master a hip new continental language when buying birettas, bidons, gilets and musettes. Standing in front of the mirror in your retro Molteni top and performance-enhancing Lycra tights is part of the appeal. I think I look like Eddie Merckx; my wife insists I’m more Max Wall.

Thankfully these days there are plenty of places to ogle and order such enticing paraphernalia, even if you’re a long ride from a bike shop. The internet has been a boon for the bike nut. I can waste many hours comparing gorgeous Italian components with funky American frame builders (Parlee versus Crumpton anyone?), and buy all the accoutrements and vestments I desire. Rapha Cycling is a product of the internet age, a cool young British company whose avowedly high-end gear has become the sign of a style-obsessed cyclist.

It even publishes a sumptuous magazine of pure bike porn called Rouler so that you can drool over old school frames in an old school format. Just occasionally you have to put it down and go for a ride.

Robert Elms’s favourite bike is a steel Roberts with Campagnolo Record. His dream bike is a carbon Colnago C50 with Campagnolo Super Record.

www.rapha.cc www.condorcycles.com www.campagnolo.com www.brooksengland.com