ED OXLEY

“So what do you think you’re doing here Ed”, Jones asked. “I’ve come to do an all mountain 29er feature for Dirt,” I replied. Then Rowan (Sorrell) punched the little model of a bearded man and the real story began.

If you want to have a job that you love you need to invent one for yourself. I was asked recently, along with other parents, to go into my daughter’s primary school to talk about my job. I put my riding kit on and took my bike into the classroom. I told the kids that I had wanted to work outdoors and loved riding my bike, so I made up a job to make this possible for me to do. I told them that you don’t always have to go for an interview and do a job for someone else. They liked this idea. It’s not for everyone but it’s the best thing for some of us to do.

In my line of work I often find myself sleeping with men. In the last month I’ve had to share a bed in a static caravan, a double bunk in a postage stamp sized French hotel, the floor of a bothy and a wooden camping pod. The common theme in these situations is farting, laughing, beer and the smell of damp.

It was just out of curiosity that I started growing the beard a few years ago. Then I started my company and the beard just became my trademark so now I’m stuck with it! I’d be really proud if I’d actually thought this up as a marketing strategy as it certainly gets me recognised.

It’s very satisfying to see someone progress their riding, whether it’s being more confident through rocks, flowing through turns or clearing a simple drop off. Usually it’s the simple things like when someone gets how to steer with their hips and all of a sudden they’re smiling and loving being on their bike.

Running holiday trips has given me the chance to ride abroad loads more than I ever did before. It’s all about the trails but I also love to see new places and enjoy the local specialities of food and drink. I’m writing this at the airport waiting to fly to the Basque Country in Spain where you can find the best Pintos (tapas) in the world and some excellent riding.

I’m sold on 29ers even though I’m only 5’8″. For the trail riding I do the big wheels are smoother over rocks and give more grip in turns. I’d just like to see a Marzocchi 55 or RockShox Lyric type 29er fork.

Before I worked with bikes I was a massage therapist and also ran didgeridoo workshops in schools. One of my first jobs was at a shopping mall doing Punch and Judy and dressing up as the Mad Hatter to run tea parties. It’s been a varied career.

Hebden Bridge, the rainbow capital of the Pennines, is where I live. We’ve got miles of great techy trails, some good pubs and plenty of freaks. I feel right at home there.

I’d like to run a course called ‘Cornering is Sexy’ just to see who turned up. It is sexy though isn’t it?

ROWAN SORRELL

Riding wasn’t my first sport; ashamedly my first love was football. I played every day and was scouted to play for Norwich City schoolboys. Now I can’t bear to watch football, they are overpaid Prima donnas, whereas Rugby I have grown to truly appreciate as it’s played with pride and honour. Cardiff when the six nations is on, is a special place.

It all began behind my house in Lodge Woods, both racing and trail building when I was about 14. We built a track called the ‘Grundig’ after the then title sponsor of the World Cup series, and 17 seconds was the record down the main track. I remember being totally committed on my fully rigid bike and thinking to myself after my best run, ‘I wonder if Nico (Vouilloz) could actually go much faster than that?’ I know the answer now, I have ridden with him!

Broken bones and injuries suck. Breaking my Tib and Fib was a low point. I remember seeing my lower leg heading the wrong direction, I quickly moved it back to somewhere near to a normal position before the pain really kicked in. A few minutes later a lady came over to show me her bruise (my bike had crashed into her afterwards) in doing so she kicked my foot and span my broken leg back around again! For the break to come at the point of my racing career where I felt like I was going somewhere was heartbreaking at the time, but now I realise it just refocused me and opened up so many other doors.

My first car was a four–speed Vauxhall Nova 1.2, however my fondest memories are without doubt of my 1.7 diesel Volvo GL. An uglier car has not graced this planet. It was my sleeping quarters for races, had a renowned wrestling ring on the roof with an almost permanently compressed ceiling from these activities that I would have to kick out before being able to fit in to drive. She was driven at over 100mph up the M1 with the bikerack dragging on the floor and she shuttled me from Leeds to South Wales regularly to race at weekends. Driving home was a challenge undertaken with a discman, large headphones and diet pills to keep me awake after the heavy socialising that we did at races back then. Not something I’d recommend these days! The shed became undriveable and I ditched it in Newport with no tax, MOT or insurance when I went to race the Lisbon downtown event. Somehow months later it showed up again on my street, I still have no idea how?>>