Slightly irritated, to say the least
We went out last Sunday on one of our regular training rides in preparation for the Demelza 101 Sittingbourne to Paris 270 mile Bike Ride. We went out a) because it wasn't raining, b) because we had to and c) they do the best bacon sandwiches at the top of Tankerton Slopes at the cafe at the halfway point.
It was however windy. Really windy. Piglet and Pooh windy in fact.
It was also cold.
We started from our regular start point in Sittingbourne and had, for the first time, managed to get in touch with one of the other participants, who, for the sake of anonymity, we'll call "Terry". Terry turned up on a dusty bike he'd found in his shed and was wearing nothing but shorts and a running top - and no gloves.
"I have some spare gloves. Do you want to borrow them?"
"No, Oim fine."
"I have some rain trousers, that'll keep the wind out. Borrow them?"
"Nope, Oim really fine."
"You haven't got a hi-viz on, I have a spare..."
"No thanks"
"Your bike's making a strange noise is it..."
"...no, it's foine"
"Your not really taking this seriously are you? It's 46 miles."
"Oim fine."
To cut a long story short, we arrived at the cafe after 22 miles and Terry could not hold his cup of tea through shaking.
"Are you sure you don't want to borrow the gloves?"
"No, Oim fine, really fine."
We set off back home and found a stupidly steep hill (yet another story) at which point good humour began to take a back seat as we realised we had turned into the wind and things *really* started getting tough. And Terry's bike started making that strange clicking sound that only cyclists recognise.
We got to Faversham. "Err, where's Terry?", "Dunno, he was there a minute ago". We looped back and no sign of him. "Well all we can do is to cycle slowly and see if we can see him when we get out of town". I'm afraid sympathy was at its lowest ebb and we just wanted to get home.
He caught up with us at a drinks stop. "My chain keeps coming off and I can't get any low gears". "Err, good luck with the hill at Teynham then..."
I'm ashamed to say that we left him struggling along the A2 with no gears. If you find someone frozen in a ditch, that'll be Terry.
It was however windy. Really windy. Piglet and Pooh windy in fact.
It was also cold.
We started from our regular start point in Sittingbourne and had, for the first time, managed to get in touch with one of the other participants, who, for the sake of anonymity, we'll call "Terry". Terry turned up on a dusty bike he'd found in his shed and was wearing nothing but shorts and a running top - and no gloves.
"I have some spare gloves. Do you want to borrow them?"
"No, Oim fine."
"I have some rain trousers, that'll keep the wind out. Borrow them?"
"Nope, Oim really fine."
"You haven't got a hi-viz on, I have a spare..."
"No thanks"
"Your bike's making a strange noise is it..."
"...no, it's foine"
"Your not really taking this seriously are you? It's 46 miles."
"Oim fine."
To cut a long story short, we arrived at the cafe after 22 miles and Terry could not hold his cup of tea through shaking.
"Are you sure you don't want to borrow the gloves?"
"No, Oim fine, really fine."
We set off back home and found a stupidly steep hill (yet another story) at which point good humour began to take a back seat as we realised we had turned into the wind and things *really* started getting tough. And Terry's bike started making that strange clicking sound that only cyclists recognise.
We got to Faversham. "Err, where's Terry?", "Dunno, he was there a minute ago". We looped back and no sign of him. "Well all we can do is to cycle slowly and see if we can see him when we get out of town". I'm afraid sympathy was at its lowest ebb and we just wanted to get home.
He caught up with us at a drinks stop. "My chain keeps coming off and I can't get any low gears". "Err, good luck with the hill at Teynham then..."
I'm ashamed to say that we left him struggling along the A2 with no gears. If you find someone frozen in a ditch, that'll be Terry.
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