Carlton ReidMon 8 Jan ‘18 12.28 GMT
There’s a way to get healthy from fast food: the trick is to deliver it, not eat it. I’m 52, but am now fitter than I was at 22. As a gig-economy food delivery rider I’m getting paid to melt my middle-age spread. I started in November, but have lost 5kg. Although I only do a few evening hours per week, I have already banked enough cash to pay for a trip to see the Giro d’Italia in May.
I get paid £4.25 for every drop, and the faster I pedal, the more drops I can fit in. Students are the mainstay of the food delivery business, and on a good night – when the students are flush – I can pocket £20 an hour. Not bad for time I’d otherwise waste trawling Twitter.
My wife is a hospital doctor and works weird hours. Most nights we don’t sit down to eat until 11pm, and by delivering gourmet burgers between 7 and 10pm I can squeeze in exercise when otherwise I wouldn’t have done a jot. I don’t mind riding at night. In fact, I love it. There are fewer cars about, and those that remain can’t, I hope, fail to notice the reflective slab on my oversize food delivery bag.
As a freelance journalist I’ve interviewed former cycle messengers, and have long been glum I’d never had a chance to do what they did, usually in the 1980s. Back in the day, messengers raced around with shoulder bags delivering legal documents and artwork from design agencies; now it’s steaming-hot pizzas delivered in insulated backpacks.link to original article