by ThePinkDreamMachine » Wed Jun 03, 2009 12:39 am
The pearls are off and we are racing.
Great turn out at this evening‘s Palace. London Dynamo may have more riders but Addiscombe is a real community.
Carole H and the whole family came along, picnic and all, while The Shadow brought the blonde contingency (his lovely wife and two charming little girls) who turned into brilliant team cheer leaders for the night. Michelle also made an appearance siting in her garden chair like a queen on her throne overseeing her subjects. Later on Marco, Bridget and Adam came along to watch the fun. Now that was 10 just supporting and I lost count of how many riders were in yellow.
It was a night for madness with lots of near misses, a big crash and a lot of huffing and puffing.
Only five girls took the start line tonight and more 3rd/4th cat men than I have ever seen before. Charlie Blackman was very much mother goose this week, leading some great tactical moves she kept us together for 5 laps, longer than I’ve managed to hold on before. On lap 6 it was complete carnage around the hairpin with the 3rd/4th cat men over taking us and the E/1/2 men over taking them at the same time, squeezing around the tight bend, wheels hopping, men all over the place and slap bang in the middle are us girls. At one point I got petrified when a 1st cat leaned on me one side while at the same time a 4th cat somehow managed to lean against me on the other.
Phew, we came out the other side unscathed and we now started racing. I got caught behind a suffering dull witch, sorry, Dulwich girl that I couldn’t seem to get around until it was too late, in a blink we’d lost the front two girls, Dammit... Adam yelled ‘dont sit on the back get up there.’ Un-impressed by this seeing as I’d just lead all the way up the hill and most of the first three laps! I came around to take the front again with a little too much power and she’d gone... dropped off the back and disappeared. Great, now I was completely on my own with the front two slipping away.
Meanwhile Carole was doing a sterling job, zooming around and even looking like she was enjoying it too, holding the best line I’ve ever seen a girl going down that hill and through the bend. I passed Sean just as Sylv, Hal and then The Shadow etc came flying past. The Blonde Broomfields, looking very sweet in top-to-toe pink were cheering me on every lap like my own, personal support team that really encouraged me to push harder so as not to disappoint them, (apparently, they both now want pink bikes, it’s going to get expensive Steve.)
The men were streaming past and cutting me up causing me to ride on to the grass. The pearls were absent tonight though and with them, any semblance of me being ladylike, and I don’t know where it came from but I really shouted some abuse at one guilty rider. Another one did it and I shouted again. Then to add insult to injury, number 50 from Dulwich cleared his throat and spat it out, hitting my lovely new pink and white shoes. I lost it. No one Spits (yuck) on MY PINK SHOES, and my blood boiled over with rage. I yelled ‘Oi, you wouldn’t spit on your wife would you. So don’t spit on me, I’m someone’s Girlfriend too you know’. After this out-burst I calmed down. But only a bit.
I forgot which lap I was on and ploughing on, I couldn’t work out if I was feeling sick from the sheer amount of effort or if it was that stuff I found in the back cupboard called Gatorade. I was pretty worried about what the colour of it was going to do to my teeth and the taste was shocking.
Whilst pondering this into the bottom corner and bracing myself for the next infestation of riders flying past like a swarm of bees ready with my arm out to punch one this time if he came too close, I heard the horrid sound of scraping tyres and clattering carbon on tarmac. Looking over my shoulder I saw, about 15 metres behind me, a mostly Dynamo coloured sea of riders is pouring down the grass bank like drunks after a garden party. F****ng amateurs! One was wrapped round a tree like some over-zealous, lycra-clad bird watcher. I’d also like to point out that I did not, whatsoever cause this crash, at all.
A few laps later and the bell rang, signalling my last lap. I was pretty relieved as my temper was as red as my face and I’ve never ridden so hard at Palace. Getting angry works as this lady, well maybe not a lady tonight, finished 3rd scoring seven more points for my basket.
Chloe
Chloe
The Pink Dream Machine Phase 2