In a world of uncertainty at least one thing is true: bikes are, and always will be, bloody great. Whether they come from the Home Counties like this month’s Orro Gold, from a European powerhaus like the Canyon Ultimate, or from our cousins across the Pond like the Ritchey Break-Away, a bicycle is the very embodiment of social democracy: it doesn’t discriminate and exists just to ride, enveloping allcomers with its warm embrace. In fact, we could probably all learn a thing or two from it.

National stereotyping and bike reviews, like love and marriage in Frank Sinatra’s famous number, seem to go together like a horse and carriage. German bikes, for instance, are routinely described as clinical, ruthless and efficient, reflecting our commonly held views of the country itself and its people.

But while German brand Canyon’s creations are indeed all of those things, Canyon’s story has more in common with romantic artisans than mass-production monoliths. In the 1980s brothers Roman and Franc Arnold would tour the country, Roman pedalling his bike in races, Franc peddling his wares at the roadside from his trusty trailer. Over time that trailer grew into a bike shop, that bike shop into a wholesaler and that wholesaler into an upstart brand.

I say ‘upstart’ because Canyon was one of the first to eschew the traditional bricks and mortar approach for a direct sales model, cutting out the dealer, cutting prices and taking the industry in a new direction – one that unsurprisingly has proved very popular with consumers.

But it’s not been entirely plain sailing. Earlier this year Roman Arnold was compelled to issue a public apology to customers over late deliveries and questions over service. Happily, Canyon says these problems have been ironed out and it’s shipping 500 bikes a day worldwide.