This site is closing

This site will close soon, probably at the end of this months billing cycle, in around 3 weeks.

The reasons:

  1. Constant hacking attempts, as many as 200 per day. They’re coming from all over the world, so a script kiddie trying to get access by using incorrect usernames. I have a firewall in place that bans them after one failed attempt, this is fast becoming a very large part of the database and .htaccess file.
  2. The site at certain times of the day can take an age to load. This is unnaceptable and throwing money at the problem won’t help.
  3. I’ve contacted several retailers and manufacturers to see if they’ll loan me a bike for a few days so I can expand the reviews to cover other models… none have called me or emailed me back.
  4. I can’t be arsed updating with new posts. There’s also little to cover if I can’t get hold of loan bikes to test and review.
  5. I might one day setup the site on my local network on a raspberry pi, and yes believe it or not, it would be faster than the current host.
  6. I’m also considering selling my bike. I am a carer for my uncle who is mentally handicapped, I get 3 days a week when I have a respite carer come in and look after him for a few hours. So of course riding is dependent on the weather and if I have other errands to run in my spare time. As things are. I don’t want to get soaked, cold and miserable during this time.

About The Bionic Cyclist

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

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Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

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