Well I'll be dammed.
Who would ever of thought it at 41 years and 361 days and 13 hours old, that I - a fully grown adult with real job and a bar-b-que and ankle biters to support would of joined one of these secret closed clicky clubs like the Free Masons. But no it was worse than that, I decided to join..... wait for it..... here it comes...... Yes it was the Addiscombe Cycle Club. My doctor says it will pass I keep taking the tablets and attending therapy classes and patches.
Remember back to those good old days when everything was black and white and you were scared of your headmaster.
Well that was the Friday night before I took the plunge into a 'club run', What on earth was I worried about, 'Stupid boy Pike!' Saturday morning loomed and time to dress up like someone crossed between a Russian ice skater from the 80's (I think her name was Tryan Skweezeya Ballzin) and a football mascot in the 3rd division. We are now talking yellow, yes my friends I said yellow, combine that with the fact that the last time I rode a bike in anger I was 15 years old delivering papers being chased by the dreaded dog.
To the run then. How wrong can you be about a sport or a group. I have now had the pleasure of meeting some really down to earth and friendly people who have welcomed me, supported me and made Saturday the best day of the week now. (apart from that mad robot who took out the 17mph last week, yes you know who you are).
And OH MY GOD I rode up Box Hill this week closely followed by Monty who used my slip stream to get up there with the grace of a swan, you owe me one now Monty.
I aim to write again soon and bore the life out of you AGAIN.
Very Agreeable indeed, It has the feeling of a big family.......... A big thank you to all of you.
Marky Mark