Stepping from the side street into Biltstraat at go-to-work o'clock is like stumbling across a beehive that has just been smashed open. Swarms of cyclists buzz down the heavily demarcated lanes, the near- silent purr of the new purchases contrasting with the inharmonious clanking of the old rustbuckets used because no one would want to steal them. Even by pedal-happy Dutch standards, Utrecht is extraordinarily in thrall to the bicycle. It's not just an act to lure in the Tour de France.
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