Something cycling related happened today. Having a three year old child (or ‘the tiny dictator’ as she is sometimes named) is a strange experience. She has started using idiomatic expressions. Which means I’ve started noticing the idiomatic expressions I use, and now can’t be sure if I’m speaking in my own idiomatic idiolect, or have been reduced to a burbling recantation of a three year old’s first phrases.
Anyway, like I said, something cycling-related happened today. On the way home I noticed a clubmate stood at the side of a main road with a clipboard. It was a strange sight. She was waiting for a tandem trike end to end record attempt to come through in her capacity as CTT observer. It was about as old school and as niche as you can get. Even more niche than hill climbs.
At the bottom of Bridge Valley Road I bumped into the legendary George Keene, now recovered from a broken pelvis caused by a stray dog and back out on the bike, confounding the surgeon who pinned it in January that an 84 year old could recover so quickly. He was also waiting for the pair. Apparently they’d been spotted coming over Redhill at 5pm. I hazarded a guess that descending Redhill on a tandem trike would be quick. Not unlike sitting in the cab of an articulated lorry with shonky brakes.
They came through in the end, a couple of hours down on schedule, aiming for three days. I gave the hardy trio a cheer. It looked like they needed it. It’s bonkers.