Lets pretend that when I rode off the front on the first lap that myself and the two guys on my wheel gained a healthy gap. And lets pretend that the force one gale blowing across the drag leading up to the hairpin bend helped to distance myself and my two pseudo team mates from the nasty snarling pack. And fcuk it, while we're all still pretending, lets pretend that our breakaway group somehow managed to stay away for the whole race and that; (this is the good bit
) I won the the 3up sprint. Yeaah!
...Ok Ok its not true. It was a boring 'lets-all-stick together-coz-its-really-windy kind of race and 4 laps from the end two prime chasers slipped away never to be seen again - probably both gobbled up by a dragon or something. Then of course came the inevitable 38 man bunch sprint (yeah I counted, what about it?) for 3rd spot as the riders crossed the line something proper weird happened. They all disappeared into a strange disc like aircraft manned by odd looking humanoids; all except myself and Simon - who by the way rode very well.