The encyclopedia of excuses

 Post #600  (do you think a habit's become an obsession?) 

22/5  The cold concession.

The bureau shortchanged us in the wee small hours of Saturday, a promised five degrees could barely get above zero and the 'feels like minus three' rallied the search for heavy duty insulation.  We'd waited till the agreed 5:35, even gone in search, but with no text received, time beckoned Emil and I to set sail to Sanctuary.  What luck that I took a peek behind half a k later, Wendy was now in pursuit (now that her winter gloves had been found)   With legs in motion and wheels up to speed, the cold became less of an issue.  What wattage awaited at the grid was more important than the temperature.  Crossed fingers for a mixed bag, if only for Wendy's sake!   All rugged up like Antarcticans, PistolPete, Wozza, Kreeky, Rocket, Molly, Boof and Lance gathered in Sanctuary Drive's darkness, an eerie silence hanging over the start-line till The Godfather's absence explained why. 

 Whether by co-incidence, choice or force, the order happened to fall into the ranks of fitness.  Molly's wheel of choice was rearward, the scars of second wheel syndrome still show!  Wendy's choice of caboose was probably to gauge the tempo to come.  The faster fellowship (no need for names, you know the culprits!) may barely get out of an idle, Sanctarians (for want of a better demographic description) would find the speed the standard stuff but others may spend the lap on the limit.  Par for the course when clans combine (the alternative of separate squads would struggle to reach a quorum of any comfort.  So all for one and one for all it was.....

Pistol's opening pace was just a toe in the water for what tempo could be tolerated, and bravo for the gentle introduction Pete!   The tsunami of acceleration at intersections and corners stretched the line longer so the real rhythm on the longer lengths of tarmac was better to bear.  Blame comes as standard though when you're on the front and the caboose happens to disconnect, Wozza copping the flack when Wendy succumbed to the tsunami into River Rd.  Just a couple of k's trimmed off the pace and ten became one again, Emil now in the drivers seat choosing a workout on a long shift to rooster corner (yep, still calls in the cold).   It was my turn to slice the chilled atmosphere in Coach Rd (feels even colder on the front) but was that a breeze up the backside assisting? Whether it was there or not, I used the sensation to motivate my turn up to the highway.   

Lance followed up in sync with the speed to Old Dookie Rd and that meant no chase to catch the caboose as I rolled rearward (Molly and Wendy had cemented their places there anyway)    Boof kept a lid on his horsepower to follow the suit of speed but Wendy was just millimetres from baling out nearing the Toaster. A few dropped back to donate a draft to the distressed.  Kreeky had all ten re-aquainted in Pine Lodge North Rd.  Is it the feeling of heading back to town or being closer to the warmth of breakfast that builds the speed in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd?  High 30's was back on the menu as we crossed paths with just five Cats headed east, winter woes have slashed their roll call but not a Goat got out of bed.    A check was kept on the caboose as Pistol, Rocket and Wozza did their duty and rolled to the rear, the lights of suburbia saying coffee was soon to be enjoyed.  The blame was shifted to Lance for breaking the bunch with a k of River Rd remaining, though the slow start into Wanganui Rd got things back together again.  An Indian filed squeeze along the Boulevard decided the Butter Factory was the berth for breakfast, a growing pedestrian peloton (Kel, Sim, Tina and Kim), Al, a bike-less Bo Lynda and The Godfather (on foot) filled the table.  Making lists, Melbourne in the rear view mirror and the curse of the cold ride home making the racket.

24/5  The blame game. 

It was all Emil's fault!  PistolPete (read Mr. Consistency) had gently brought the speed up to boil to Mitchell Rd with Kel. Kreeky, Greg, Wozza, The Godfather, Tina, Bo and Rocket in procession behind, but Emil's exuberance toward Central Kialla broke Tina off the back.   The slow and brief respite from forty felt like Christmas.  Bo took his time winding up to speed toward River Rd be he lost demerit points off when Tina's lungs labored again in three degrees.  My turn was due and the pressure was on, The Godfather's mantra "Don't f#@& it up!" ringing in my ears.  I was happy to oblige with a low 30's drive to the dip, an east northeaster was against me anyway.  Kel felt it too, shortening her shift for Wozza to show us what wattage was all about.  Tina had obviously climatised to the cold, now advancing up the order a place or two while Rocket carried us along Coach Rd to the highway.  

Greg had his position perfected, towed along for the circuit then exiting stage left into Channel Rd without a drop of sweat spent on the front.  The breeze became a thorn in the side on Boundary Rd (deja vu last Thursday) but Kreeky mustn't have read it on the front, so I positioned a little toward the road's middle so those who'd served their duty had a slipstream to recover in.  (Yeah right, Rocket and Wozz behind me need to recover?)   The babble and banter suddenly stopped in Old Dookie Rd, The Godfather now pre-occupied with oxygen intake instead of verbal dispatches.  A clang rang from the rear, for a moment sounding like something going overboard, but the halt revealed a metal bracket laying on the road caused the commotion.  Underway again, The Godfather finished his shift to Central Ave for Pistol to head the hurry to the truck route and Emil to sprint to SPC.    Deja vu every second day!

25/5  I want my mummy!

A tailwind to the start-line is a great way to start the day but you know it's going to hurt for most of the lap fighting the wind back home.  Greg, Rocket, ChrisA, Lenny, Grumpy, Kreeky, Kel, Wozza, Boof, PistolPete, Emil, Bo, Bruce and The Godfather must have been masochists lining up at the roundabout!  Greg broke the convention by leading to Mitchell Rd (must have been the temptation of the tailwind, 30 km/h worth of northeaster is hard to resist)  PistolPete seemed out of place as captain to Central Kialla, that wind sending 13 single filed behind ducking for cover across Mitchell Rd.  The way north to River Rd reversed the echelon and whoever was driving the high thirties was hidden from view (the likely suspect would be in that little list of big horsepower)  In these blustery conditions basic survival techniques would have you tuck in for maximum draft but priorities get skewed when you think of the tail-enders in the gutter to get any benefit.  Just a fraction to the left of the wheel ahead was the diplomatic thing to do.  Still single filed as Boof and Lenny unleashed their exertion, the front half dozen had a sense of order but the rear resembled a writhing snake's tail in the hunt for cover while wind did a lot of the steering for us.   Wozza, Rocket and ChrisA tidied up the shamozzle by forming an advance line but several still procrastinated an advance.  It's not often that there's an urge to abandon ship but this was close, caught up in the rear struggle for shelter had many a close moment.  

Kreeky restored some sense to the speed in Coach Rd, no more long skinny tail hanging on in desperation, two almost regimented lines stacked across the road to work the wind wisely to the highway.  Greg took his early retirement into Channel Rd, Bruce (not long off the crook list) confining himself to the caboose.  Grumpy's appearance at the business end was brief to Boundary's bridge (too much MTB and not enough road bike?) so I hit the breezy end of the bunch alongside Kel, driving the right gutter with gritted teeth and a vice like grip on the bars.  Kel called enough at the fig farm, Bo keeping me breathless to Old Dookie Rd.  Wasn't it bliss with the wind almost behind, but don't get too comfortable Foss, a wind behind meant turn up the tempo!   ChrisA, Lenny and Boof made mid forties fashionably fast toward Central Ave, the sting of speed to town would be eased by a few new Strava PB's (and I could have a slow solo spin home as recovery)

26/5  The peace agreement.

Lethargy, as the 4:30 alarm barked it's "get outta bed!" eased realizing it was Wednesday - the combination of the clans would almost guarantee a calm ride.  Boof, Kel, Laura, Superman, Rocket, PistolPete, Lance, GreatScottSteve, Wozza, Emil, Joe (not Tony), Tina, Bruce, Kim, The Godfather and Kreeky filling Sanctuary's grid proves the popularity of a lap of less labor.  PistolPete (of course) showed the way south and an advance line quickly formed, and that would lessen the whiplash effect at the back.   

Superman, Laura, Bruce and Joe (not Tony) slipped quietly into the rear seats as Boof, Rocket and Wozza fronted for an early effort, a fair dose of west northwester promising happy days for Mitchell and River Roads but the likelihood of labor for the way home.  Tactical positioning to appear at the front on River Rd's stretch was keen, something to do with the prevailing wind I'm guessing (and playing your position in the pack right, you'd be spared the struggle of fighting the wind in Old Dookie)  Only just off the sick list, Bruce braved a brief sit in the drivers seat, others possibly daunted by the company of wattage abbreviated their appearances too (a short shift's better than none....and a lot better than staying in bed!  If those of the lower ranks keep this up they'll be the force in their faction come Spring!)   

Sandwiched between the smoothness of Kel and Tina, our turns came due in the last half of River Rd, and hearing the scheming for Kim to debut at the front, I kept my shift short so she'd at least score some of that breeze behind.  Emil drove the long leg to the highway and the west northwester seemed to ease, though the wind from The Godfather continued (he was yet to face the front).  Bo's absence seemed to be the entertainment for the day, apparently he was engrossed in volume six of the encyclopedia of excuses not to ride.  A full moon lit the way west back to town and what was going to be a battle was downgraded to a 6 km/h breeze.  Rocket and a now silent Godfather guided the way home.

27/5  An ice-cold smoothie.

Just for a (refreshing) change, girls equaled the guys.  This congenial Thursday thing is becoming infectious!  Kim, Tina, Kel, Wendy, Emil, Jase and Bo converged on the shop, despite the feels like -0.6.  Emil commenced proceedings, the unspoken but understood understanding that Indian file was kosher as others slipped into their draft of choice, Bo being my 'whatever wheel will do'.  Comfort comes a k down the road when rhythm is set (not on the rivet) and muscular movement has taken the edge off the chill.  Emil earned his brownie points handing Kim the last 500 metres to Orrvale Rd, Kel then Tina following up to take us to the cypress trees.  

Bo had finally braved being on a bike and led the way to the S bend but slowed seeing a patchwork of road repairs freshly topped with gravel (and no Roadranger report as a heads-up)  It was my time to preserve the status quo in Boundary Rd, the few hundred metres to the highway was a bit shy so stayed on till the bridge.  The temptation to stay longer till Old Dookie Rd was there, but that would toast Wendy on my wheel.  Back in the rear seat felt a quarter of a degree warmer (I'll take anything to improve a minus!) while Wendy dug deep at the front.   Jase was put in charge at the fig farm when Wendy pulled  the pin, but there wasn't quite enough left in her reserve tank to catch the caboose.  The pressure of a public performance can be nerve wracking, and leaving a bit in the tank is probably the last thing on the mind of someone new to this pace-line thing.  How much horsepower is needed? Will the next to drive hit hard?  Can I recover to hold on? A lot of variables that experience will fix, in time.   Bo & I took care of our guest as Wendy's light grew smaller off the back, donating a slipstream for half a dozen moments was enough to restore her place into the line.  Jase finished round one at New Dookie Rd for Emil to start round two up to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, the Cat count low again as five felines spun south.  Emil stayed on in the drivers seat (hoping to cook Kim a golden brown?) and so reduced the possibility of a second shift for some.  Kim was finally let loose in Ford Rd and understandably kept her shift short, Kel and Tina contributing their bit to Grahamvale Rd.  Bo spared me a second shift towing us all to town, so I (unusually) rolled home relaxed, without feeling like I'd been put through the wringer.     

28/5  Lockdown laps.

 

A day off work donated a couple of life's rare and simple pleasures.  Covid had again constrained outdoor activities to one or two people within five k's from home, so a solo spin in the sunshine at sensible o'clock was two rarities relished under the circumstances.  How good is waking (whenever) without an alarm and readying to ride without the drama of deadlines?  This riding in daylight habit could become addictive it it weren't for the 7:30 to 4 grind!  Staying within the distance limits the route but there's enough tarmac in these parts to offer a bit of variety.  The old standby golf course loop was a starter, feeling the freshness of a southwester to halve the temperature to a feels like four.  Despite the solitude, something inside urges an effort beyond a cruisy roll around, so thanks to the southwester for the inspiration into the mid 30's along Wanganui and up to Radio Australia (to be re-named acres of abandoned aerials?)   Verney Rd lowered the head and raised the heart rate, and with little shelter from the wind whistling across the billiard table terrain, I'd earn my breakfast.  Knight St became my southern limit (thinking the nanobots and microchips in my Covid vaccine would be tracking my every move down to the last metre....direct to ASIO), the way west a little easier now that the city's buildings were blocking some of that breeze.  Rolling resistance halved on the hotmix of the Boulevard, traffic noticeably thinned from the usual 9am rush hour of dozens down to handfuls.  And so, arriving back to the starting point it was repeat laps as necessary, mindful of the time constraint of two hours.  (there'd be stopwatch software in those microchips!) 

This week 282km       YTD 5,938km     

                

Vulnerable to velocity

 Post #599

15/5  Wind? What wind?

Would the winter convergence of the clans continue?  I hope so.  Saturday's 30 km/h westerly would be hell heading back to town and I, like many others I reckon, was banking on a speed short of supersonic.  There was some consolation finding a few Wouldabeens (TrekTrev, Jase, Wendy and Superman) among the Sanctuary squad  of PistolPete, Emil, Kreeky and Gazza (a floater between factions really) and the lads from the shop (Boof, Rocket, Wozza, Bruce and TrackStan).  Nev and Lance flew the western division's flag.  This mixed bag may mean a solicitous speed?  (Subject to change without notice though!)  There was no rush for a 6am start, PistolPete tended to puncture repairs on the start-line.  

CatKel arrived for his free tow to the Pine Lodge church where he'd jump ship and cruise with the Cats back to coffee.  34 wheels soon rolled south, a few quick to forge forward as an advance line formed, the horsepower of the keen possibly keeping several waiting in the rear seats for their "wheel of choice".  The speed seemed to find favor, all were still aboard as the direction shifted east to Central Kialla.  An overnight shower had dampened the southern streets but that didn't break my heart, the bike was well overdue for a scrub anyway.  This would force my hand.  That serenity that descends with a tail-wind was soon shattered with social sentence swapping of the different divisions updating and downloading news, but PistolPete went for a daily double just a minute into River Rd with another puncture.  

Despite the offer of tubes and CO2's to fix it, Pete abandoned the ride to return home just a couple of k's away for repair.  He'd re-unite for the caffeine conclusion.    The restart put me in the advance line with TrekTrev ahead and Kreeky behind, a comfortable standard of speed for me in view of the toil back to town.  I wouldn't be the Festiva among the Ferrari's for a change!  Superman could still be heard in the caboose, he'd chosen a good day to make his comeback.  Let's see if he'd follow up Wednesday?   Without the wind at our backs, there was a little less hurry in Coach Rd, a glance back checking the rear carriages were still attached.  

I'd wished I'd opted for a second base layer, feels like 3 forced a lower gear to bring the engine temperature up a bit more.   TrekTrev chose a short shift alongside Boof in Boundary Rd, rolling across at the fig farm for me to pair with him to Old Dookie Rd.  Part two was perfect, the tailwind to the Toaster with Kreeky as considerate co-pilot.  There'd be no escape from the work back to breakfast though, the turns into the headwind would be brief for many.  Suffering is far better shared though.  I'd left a gap in the left line for Wendy to hide from the advance, her first lap with the mixed mob needn't give her nightmares.  

The westerly was of little consequence to the likes of Wozza and Rocket, but work for us of weaker wattage.  TrackStan's mixmaster cadence and Boof's brute force towed us to Boundary Rd, Emil and Gazza had handfuls of horsepower too, but those in the lesser factions wiped a few k's off and trimmed their shifts to survive.  Didn't that promote me quickly to the pointy end!  TrekTrev looked labored a little beyond Verney Rd so I went light on the throttle alongside to Numurkah Rd, saving something for part two.  Facing work in Wanganui Rd is often a  chore and that wind didn't help, but I was surprised that Kreeky's chore was bigger than mine to reach DECA.  A wind assisted spin along the Boulevard toward breakfast made a comfortable conclusion, votes today in the LemonTree's favor.   Drawing on Strava, the shop squad's speed and Bellarine by bike filled the footpath with banter for breakfast, coffee and porridge warming the interior ready for the chilled ride home.

17/5  Monday's manoevres. 

PistolPete was already southbound at 5:38.  Seems Saturday's slow puncture had returned to haunt him.  So Emil took charge of first turn at 5:40 to lead Kel, Greg, Kreeky, Tina, Rocket, Wozza and Bruce south, finding Pistol paused to re-inflate a little beyond the truck route.  He urged us to continue.  I had second shift in Mitchell Rd as an early effort, perfectly placed though to make the most of Monday's westerly.  Eight rolled past as I huffed and puffed my way back to the caboose, only then doing the mathematics to calculate there'd be another shift for me before the lap was done.  Plenty of time to harden up Foss!  Hats off to Joe (not Tony) for fronting up for duty to River Rd, he's had a rapid rise from the ranks of the Wouldabeens.  

Greg's slipped comfortably into the Sanctuary squad's speed, his 2k turn to the bridge performed like a veteran to the velocity (there's hope for this lad ; he could still talk at the end of his shift!)    Bruce made his move toward the quarter horse stud (at Sanctuary standards) , Kel a little short of her usual effort but Tina's was shorter still (being a little green around the gills)  Wozza was most diplomatic lifting the pace gently to rooster corner.  Rocket made the 3600 metre drive to the highway look easy, Greg doing his Channel Rd exit thing as Kel delivered news of an o.t.a.   A quiet roll to the pub and a halt at the highway reunited the crew.   

Most were relishing the serenity that The Godfather's absence affords, Kreeky spending a smooth shift north to tow us to Old Dookie Rd.  That westerly wasn't so bad, sitting in Emil's slipstream mind you, so maybe the wind had died off to be kind to the old bloke about to take a turn.  Crossing Central Ave I woke up and fell out of bed!  I felt sure I was riding into a tornado.  Plans of doing a decent turn to the truck route at the pace Emil had set was pure fantasy, reaching Dobson's bridge and not needing a defibrillator would do!  Joe (not Tony) wouldn't appreciate the job I handed him, but I'm sure he'd get over it.  Bo inherited the hurt half a k on and had endured enough at the truck route, Bruce supplying the horsepower to drag us to SPC.  

18/5 Tuesday's test.

Temperature on Tuesday was colder than an ex-wife's glare.  Feels like minus one had all the base layers in service and the arctic rated gloves out of mothballs.  It was another spin with the Sanctuary squad today, I'd figured the Wouldabeens would now be in hibernation till October.  Deliberately leaving home five minutes early allowed a slow introduction to speed.  Thirty felt like riding in a refrigerator. GreatScottSteve, Greg, Bo, PistolPete, Kel, The Godfather, Kreeky and JJ (dropping by from his whirlwind tour of the country) braved the chill for the thirty k lap.  A fully inflated PistolPete started the southerly spin of course, JJ signing his speed signature to Central Kialla.   And I was the silly goose to sit behind these two powerhouses!  I had the two k drive through Central Kialla to River Rd, easy on the throttle to start with so all were aboard, then as gradually as possible up to pace.......so I'd last the distance! 

It went surprisingly well (a later look at the bureau's observations explained it.....a hint of a southerly was my assistant)   I must get into Greg's ear about commencing a shift, he had the hammer down as I was still on the brakes into the off camber corner to River Rd.  (Full steam to catch the tail, less I be shamed with an o.t.a.)  I gather JJ's been climbing plenty of hills, he's on the proverbial hot tin roof jumping on and off the saddle. Trouble was, each time he stood it threw his wheel back at mine.  Tricky when you're centimetres apart.  Rule #3 was enacted, with diplomacy.   Greg retired from driving duty at the bridge and GreatScottSteve took the reigns but his usual long drive was shortened to finish before the dip.  Mind you, everyone's lungs would be at half capacity constricted by the cold.  

Kreeky got the promotion to the pointy end and stuck it out to rooster corner, fading fast in that long last 500 metres.  Kel started strong but her tenacity was tested by temperature to hand Bo the drive at the bridges.  He was blowing out the cobwebs of four days off the bike. His hurry was short-lived too, The Godfather rising to the occasion of towing the mob to Old Dookie Rd, if only to outdo Bo.  PistolPete, the master of pace, performed his usual swift shift to Central Ave, so maybe JJ would save me the labor by dragging me to the truck route?  Just the short shift to SPC would suit me.  A bit of traffic could excuse me to slow the tempo a bit too.    Nope, JJ swung off line at Dobson's to make mine the task to the truck route, though with the wind now turned off, I managed to contribute a turn resembling reasonable. Bo had the SPC shift, and yes, traffic was his reason to ease the effort. 

19/5 Wednesday's waltz.

Hitchin' a ride on the Rocket and Wozz train to Sanctuary Drive eased my effort to reach the start-line, finding the grid well stocked for the capped lap.  (Lenny, Laura, Kreeky, Bo, The Godfather, Tina, Superman, Kel, Nev, Boof, Lance and TrekTrev)   Starting rearmost maximised the draft but it needed plenty of throttle over the intersections and 'round the corners. Delayed reactions multiplied by seven made the caboose not so comfortable.  

I'd have a bit of a wait before being rostered-on for work at the front.  (There was plenty of social stuff to get through on the promotion forward).  You can't bank on predictable shifts with this mixed menage but needless to say the advance to the business end wasn't that long. Nev and Joe (not Tony) showed us the way into Coach Rd, Joe (not Tony) having a very short shift to One Tree Dam then calling me to roll across soon after.  The north northeaster wasn't that tough was it?  Rocket came alongside as my co-pilot and the speed gradually grew.  (Get the feeling you're being measured?)  I was going ok over the bridges and into that subtle dip but the moment the tarmac rose a smidgeon (that's 14 poofteenths in metric measurement) all the numbers except speed began to climb.  The highway didn't look that far away so I stayed on and ignored the data.  

Hearing lots of chat behind said plenty were doing it easy.  (Wish I was!)   Rocket saved the day (and me heart failure) by providing the draft in Boundary Rd, now it was TrekTrev's turn to do the tempo with him.  Turns rolled rather quickly from there on up to Old Dookie Rd, short and sweet better than ruin on the rivet for some I guess.  The Wednesday cap was thrown out the window for the west way home, PistolPete putting forties on the speedo's to Central Ave but those vulnerable to velocity were safely tucked into the draft to ease their concerns. The last legs to the truck route and SPC received a little less urgency which might keep the attendances up next week. 

20/5  Thursday therapy. 

Quite frankly, I'd get dizzy doing another Sanctuary circuit.  A little holiday from the hurry wouldn't be a bad thing either.  (I might make it to the weekend with some wattage left!)  There's a little squad that splinters from the Sanctuary clan and taps the northern roads as therapy from the thrash, so a request to join in scored me a berth Thursday.  It's been a while since lining up for duty at the Archer St shop, memories of 30+ dividing into to two for a Saturday spin are scant.  Tina, Emil, Kim and Kel made considerate company (if someone could pull Emil's handbrake up to the third click!) and the Channel, Boundary, Ford Rd circuit would make a pleasant change.  Indian file didn't need discussion and Emil elected himself as pilot to start the easterly effort.  A ride under the thrash threshold was like a breath of fresh air (did I mention the "feels like three"?), a great opportunity to polish a smooth pace too while all the resources weren't focused on full throttle.   

Kel led us along the ChaCha and Tina took over at the Kindergarten, only on the turn south into Central Ave did I detect the east northeaster to grizzle about.  (why should I get it easy?)    Don't we develop a fine sense of wind direction taking up this two wheeled habit? (unless you're The Godfather!)    The names of the riders with us may be forgotten, even the day and year, but a howling headwind home seems to make a memory rarely forgotten.  Given the lead role at the cypress trees, the expectation is to drive to the S bend, but with Kim due next in the drivers seat, sympathy soldiered me on to Coach Rd. (new to the paceline thing, I could spare her the short straw for now)   Emil was back in charge at the highway to take us north, an insect ingestion not helping me in the battle for breath.  

With enough east in the northeaster to niggle about, I had a festering frustration to get a little more draft but Emil had a shade of The Godfather about his position on the road.  I'm sure Kim wasn't so keen to be in the gutter so I took a bit more of the breeze so she'd survive.  Kel was given the reigns in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd and first serve of the partial tail-wind toward town (there was just enough north in that northeaster to be a nuisance)   She must have enjoyed it, towing us to Lemnos North Rd.   Ford Rd was Tina's to tap and I'd settled in at second wheel thinking my time would come crossing Grahamvale, but Tina terminated half a k shy.  Doing duty to Verney Rd was the least I could do, it was only my second shift now that I'd thought  about it.  Kim wasn't so keen to command the southern leg of Verney Rd for too long, Emil given the privilege to guide us to the Butter Factory (as if our automatic guidance system to coffee was malfunctioning!) 

21/5  Friday's frigidity.

Single file seemed to have stuck.  Was it Pistol's pace down to Mitchell Rd or was 'feels like 0.8' keeping people tucked in behind him?  Surprise additions to the Friday fling, Shorty and Jase at second and third wheel had understandably hidden in the draft, Greg, Rocket, Boof, Wozza, Tina, Emil, Kreeky, The Godfather, Bo and Kel line astern weren't so keen either.  PistolPete peeled off the front into Mitchell Rd, Shorty left with no alternative but to tough out a (short) shift, Jase covering the remainder to Central Kialla.  (they may select their 'wheel of choice' a little more carefully next time)   

Rocket kept to Sanctuary standards of speed to deliver us to River Rd, Wozza's wattage east to the bridge getting me off the saddle to hold on in fourth wheel, so the tail must have unleashed wild horses to stay in touch.  Rocket soon delivered news from a cooked caboose so the speed slowed to get all back aboard.  The Godfather's entertainment began. The slow was well suited, it's hard laughing under labor.  Boof won friends keeping a lid on thirty five, an idle for him so he did the long drive to rooster corner.   

I seem to find myself on Emil's wheel often in the order of things and I was staring down the back of the La Pierre again (high time for a decent clean Em!).  He'd conformed to the call for calm so today the aroma of cooked Foss didn't foul the air, but he did do the long 3.6 k drive on Coach Rd to the highway.  Probably 'cause I wasn't toasted before reaching the front, I felt fairly primed for my shift beyond the pub ; a steady start and a slow squeeze of the throttle, up to pace without a lot of cursing the engine and not a puff of wind to battle.  So far, so good.  Beyond the bridge the workload grew and looking to the distant target of Old Dookie didn't help the head.  The fig farm seemed a better aim for now.  I tried to get the mind over the matter of the want for more oxygen and to silence the screams from labored legs, the fig farm was now upon me so Old Dookie now looked possible.  A tow to town would be my trophy so I martyred muscles to finish on target.  What better than Kreeky's considered turn to spend in rear respite.  Boof chose to be the sole participant in the right line, possibly falling asleep in the left one?  Kel got the job of towing us beyond School Rd but the cold constrained her contribution, The Godfather doing the honor of hauling us to Central Ave.  Shorty short shifted again but Rocket's fitness (by the bucket-load) sped us to town.  Traffic split the procession to the Butter Factory so being caught in the trailing five kept the pace percolating. 

This week  291 km   YTD  5,718 km

           

                    

The last grams of grunt.

 Post #598

8/5 A social spin? Sweet!

We expect temperatures to sink and numbers to decline toward winter, so the serendipity to combine the clans for Saturday's spin was welcomed.  It makes sense to join forces and tough out the temperatures together.  The shop squad (Rocket, Boof, Wozza and Bruce) and Woulda's ; TrekTrev, Joe (not Tony) and Shorty sided with the Sanctuary's Emil, Pistol, The Godfather, Bo, Grumpy, Molly and Greg, even the Mooroopna chapter (Lance and Nev) had toured in to join. 

(Team Tat would have completed the picture)  Rocket fronted to form an advance line as PistolPete led the way to Mitchell Rd, though a long Indian filed tail sat in the wings awaiting their wheel of choice  (some have a rather rapid reputation and the true tempo was yet to be determined)   The Godfather's entertainment set a relaxed mood for a full line of pairs to form, Nev's sudden swerve in close quarters rattling a few nerves, Molly settling into the caboose as mid 30's became the fashion. The sudden slow for a rampant rabbit in River Rd then the halt for PistolPete's puncture had some wheels up close and personal but all remained upright for the pause.  Must be puncture month, it's almost a daily dillema! 

Pete's repair oozed careful deliberation and class (as you'd expect) and the bunch reformed mostly in order to resume the path to Coach Rd.  8 degrees was borderline for a second base layer and full gloves, the optimist inside choosing lighter insulation (promotes a little more effort to build an internal warmth)   Colour lit the sky for Boundary Rd shifts, an eye kept on the rear staying attached as the bunch swung east toward the Toaster.   I could get used to this two rows of social stuff, most civilized compared to the silence and single filed suffering trying to stay ahead of the Shop squad.  Maybe this factional get-together may be the winter ritual?  

Beside TrekTrev for the work west on Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, he'd had enough by Woolshed Rd so I rolled to the left line and partnered pace with Bo.  The expectation to reach Boundary Rd looked likely as long as I didn't look at any other number than km/h.  Far better to see that the engine red-lined later downloading the data over coffee at home than seeing the reality trying to reach the target while gasping like an asthmatic! Chat with Rocket was postponed till I could manage a sentence of more than three words.  It was strangely satisfying to see several only take on shorter shifts ; there's life in the old engine yet!  

The sense of riding through a blackened tunnel slowly lifted as daylight lit the surrounds and with plenty still to do duty at the front, there was calm in the legs knowing I'd probably be towed all the way to breakfast.  Shorty and Molly sat content at the rear as speed nudged the 40's to Mt.Wanganui, the bolt along the Boulevard a little squeezy between parked and passing cars, though the lust for breakfast kept the clan combined toward the Butter Factory.  The days of Group C V8's, building developments and diabolical diets kept the breakfast table noisy, great to have Alan along in the large void Col has left.  

10/5  Just a quiet tap.  Yeah, as if!

A tailwind to the start-line didn't really help.  It only delivers a false sense of security that you're doing ok.  Facing the wind later delivers reality's harsh blow!  Reservations of a tough lap with few attending were unfounded, Rocket, PistolPete, Wozza, Bruce, Emil, Joe (not Tony), Bo, The Godfather, Kel and Grumpy arrived to lighten the load from my imagination of three at the limit for fifty minutes.  Today's spin would be a sombre one, it was our good mate Col's funeral and facing his loss still seems surreal.  PistolPete assumed his usual leadership role toward Mitchell Rd and with that breeze behind, forties became the fashion.  With Rocket, Wozza and Emil behind and soon to serve their speed, a precedence of pace had been set.  No rest for the righteous today!  Rocket's speed was similar to Central Kialla and wind had no effect on Wozza's drive north to River Rd.  Raw horsepower and matchstick aerodynamics probably helps.   I readied the head for the hurt at the front as Emil dragged me along River Rd, hoping there'd be no heroics of doing a super long shift to cook me at second wheel.  There wasn't ; he called it quits at the bridge.  A lot more throttle was needed out of the slipstream as the northerly put a handbrake on my progress east, so I applied my senior citizen's concession of a k to the cruising speed. Basic survival technique really. Except the speed, numbers climbed toward the dip, almost to the red-line as I handed the helm to Joe (not Tony).  

Off the gas felt great but the passing pack's pace was now disproportionate.  Lots 'o watts were now needed to catch the tail.  Make that second last, Kel called me in.  Joe (not Tony) may have regretted his return to the Sanctuary squad, speed may have been just that rung too high from the Wouldabeens standard.  Four white posts and his turn was toast, but better to get out while the going's good, rather than ruining the rhythm.  The two red leds of Vince and the Rabbit flashed their "Come get me" for Bruce to hurry at the helm, passing them uncontested before skirting the rumble strips at rooster corner.  They opted not to sit on.  Bo headed the line north on Coach Rd but had retired from active service at the Broken bridges, Grumpy providing the pace to the highway.  In a  "mine's bigger than yours" move, The Godfather drove to Old Dookie Rd, the one-upmanship on Bo obviously worth the 3937 hard yards.  I'd taken a guess that Pistol, Rocket, Wozz and Emil ahead would more than cover the distance back to town, so by good luck (rather than good management) I'd be excused the effort of another turn. Just hanging on to that horsepower would be effort enough.  Of course they did their standard strong shifts steering the team to Stellar's for the almost compulsory caffeine and post lap analysis.  With his funeral just hours away, conversation ultimately swung to the legacy Col has left. 

12/5  En masse.

Did somebody say free beer?  Sanctuary Drive was swamped with starters on Wednesday ; word had got out of the lid being kept on pace and a big fan club descended on the grid.  Emil, Kel, PistolPete, Bruce, The Godfather, Jen, Kreeky, GreatScottSteve, Rocket, Bo, Wozza, Laura, Boof, Tina, TrekTrev, Molly and Gazza made an attendance not seen since pre-Covid times.  Play your position right today and you'd be towed around the whole lap without raising a sweat.  (feels like 3.9 would guarantee that anyway!) 

You-know-who started proceedings south, Joe (not Tony) arriving just in time to grab the caboose position as the long line swung 'round the roundabout.  Not till beyond the truck route did an advance line form, a few possibly waiting at the back to see if the social speed really did stick? (Some may have wanted that tow all the way?)  

I'd been snookered in the demotion of the left line so who was doing what at the front was a mystery as the line grew longer ahead but the speed stayed sane through Central Kialla where Grumpy arrived (without a late note from home).  Hard on the gas into River Rd, Gazza stretched the long line longer as the rear reactions struggled to catch up with what the front was doing, why he took to the gravel at the roads edge was anybody's guess.  A passion for dirt?  So that set off an opposite reaction at the rear.   We've been spoiled with the single filed smoothness of paceline over many months, how quickly we've lost that skill of forward judgement in a rotating mob (or are we dealing with a little too much light and shade?)  Not till the Broken bridges did I get to the rearmost seat, and from there the line looked even longer!  (Highly likely I wouldn't get a turn today)  It's not often you find Molly in a mid-week lap, rare to find Laura in a big bunch too.    It' certainly a good motivator to keep up the k's through winter.   Bo and The Godfather (Laurel and Hardy?) turned us west into Old Dookie Rd, the mid 30's compliance taking the mob to Central Ave.  Kel and Jen led the squad to SPC, only then did I reach the front to steer the slow path through town to its coffee conclusion. 

13/5  Don't you just love the enthusiasm!

You know this day has been coming.  It's been brewing for a few weeks now and you could almost set you watch to it.  Temperature has been thinning the divisional ranks of riders down to the dedicated, so many already softening to Playstation on Pedals (Zwift) or become drawn to the dark side of the doona (those who squeal loudest in late September's seasonal shift when that flame of a comeback flickers)   It's nothing new.  Same old same old.  Starting grids dwindle, heavy duty insulation is dragged from the depths of the wardrobe and just a few familiar fans of Rule #5 fight on.  So my hopes were handbraked on a sizeable Wouldabeens response to my "6am starters?" on What's App.  The silence was deafening!  But BamBam finally raised his hand.  Opening the door to "feels like 3" makes you question your own sanity at stupid o'clock ; it's going where others fear to tread that's probably the main motivator to turn a pair of wheels in this temperature (then there's the gold plated entertainment of watching the hibernators emerge in four months time to look forward to)        HTFU Foss, there's only 16 weeks of this to go!  

Under the delusion that a latecomer would appear, BamBam and I waited at the start line till 6 struck....and of course nobody arrived.  Just two to lap would make that next turn at the business end come 'round fast.  BamBam agreed to the Channel-Boundary-Old Dookie short circuit so I could satisfy a boss of starting work at 7:30, so I faced the music first for the shift to the truck route.  Thinking I'd set a reasonable pace toward Channel Rd needed some soul searching glancing at the Garmin......was it really that slow? (taps screen to check satellites hadn't locked onto a nearby snail)   HTFU (take #2) old boy!  I couldn't blame the wind (there was none) and nothing's uphill in these parts, but the way east toward the truck route finally got mid 30's on the screen to Doyles Rd.  Looking forward to a draft, I gave BamBam the privilege of pace setting  and hoped I could calm the cardiac count before facing the front again.  Too bad, BamBam's elbow showed me the drivers seat 1200 metres later.  No complaints though, a little's better than nothing and I had the smooth surface of the ChaCha to ease the effort a poofteenth.  It's not about measuring efforts anyway, I'll take what's on offer in this weather (so long as the wheel's predictable) or suffer the silence of a solo.  BamBam did the Kinder to the cypress trees bit which caught my second wind, the turn to the S bend taken with less toil now that the oxygen tank wasn't on empty.  Admittedly, tempo was turned down a tad to conform with BamBam's speed.  (Fossilosophy #37B ; Don't toast your team-mate, you may need their draft / spare tube / shout for coffee / sympathy one day! The world's got enough big shot's anyway!)   BamBam made good progress to Coach Rd and stayed on for the drive to the highway.  Boundary Rd's well worn path lightened the rolling resistance but I'd restrained my target to front till the fig farm, all these turns were starting to take their toll!  BamBam made it to Old Dookie Rd and gave me extra respite to School Rd so the least I could do was to front up for the distance to Central Ave.  There'd be no being towed to town for me, BamBam had spent his wattage reaching Dobson's estate so donating a draft to SPC seemed fitting to #37B.

14/5  Uniformity? 

Friday's kit day, right?  Boof, PistolPete, Emil, Rocket, Wozza, Bo, Tina, Kreeky and Kel had conformed, suitably attired at Sanctuary Drive but The Godfather defied convention (must have missed the memo?)    No prizes guessing who piloted the peloton south and with a horde of horsepower behind him (and ahead of me) made certain of a swift start.  Joe (not Tony) joined at his usual last moment but was also without a note from Mum on his out-of-uniform state.  A light west northwester chilled the bones but Emil turned the heater up to 40 on his hurry to Central Kialla. 

Wozza dialed back the distress a couple of k's to keep the clan together to River Rd.  I wasn't that pleased with my position in this procession as Rocket took the helm in a hurry, probably an idle for him but the sounds of struggle were coming from the caboose.  Boof was made captain at Laws Drive and took a tad off the tempo (thus silencing the sufferers) toward the dip, though his long drive to rooster corner was slowly cooking me at second wheel.  My job was to take over from the standards of division one, though I was happy to be ranked second best in this company!    That west northwester was a nuisance toward the Broken bridges but I'd managed to make the prior pace, time at the rushin' front would be shortened though so I didn't blow a head gasket.  

Staying true to tempo was my priority, slowing the speed can be someone else's signature.  The head wanted to reach the bridge but the engine hollered "What the?!" 300 metres shy.    Those last grams of grunt were saved to catch the tail.  No, second last seat today, Kel called me in.....again!  (out of character for Kel)     Kreeky donated the draft to the highway while I got things slowly back into focus.    The Godfather's 'middle-of-the-road' tactics toward Old Dookie Rd put Wozza to work making a proper draft for the rear half of the bunch, why The Godfather's speed see-sawed from 33 to 39 was anybody's guess.  Joe (not Tony) donated a brief drive toward School Rd, PistolPete's exemption to the laws of aerodynamics powering into the 40's to Central Ave.  What head wind? he was heard to say.  Emil had the lead role from there and kindly calmed the hurry for those still hurting to a modest 39.  Such a charitable gesture! (time for him to submit a sample to ASADA too!)   Wozza and Rocket eased the pace into town (to avoid the blame being pointed at them?) so the sting subsided for the last couple of k's. 

This week 240km    YTD 5,365km                               

Delivering dopamine

 Post #597

2/5  Saving sanity.

Missing a Saturday bunch ride could be tantamount to heresy, but sometimes other tasks take precedence.  The pangs to turn a pair of wheels along a road couldn't be ignored by Sunday and a hometown circuit would barely break double digit elevation (That'd be a change from the ups and downs of last week)  Starting at the usual stupid o'clock ('cause other things beckoned attention in daylight hours), Old Dookie Rd was as flat and familiar as last week, a light east northeaster making it a chore to keep the low thirties registering on the speedo.  At least the temperature was considerately attempting double figures.  

A solo spin could start to fester solitary issues (I'll abandon the practice if I find I'm singing to myself!) but at least allows some serenity and the freedom to change the route on a whim.   I'd altered course to set my sights toward the Toaster, chasing a sunrise instead of the usual track to River Rd (I'm probably responsible for a fair amount of wear to it's tarmac anyway).    Time and temperature had avoided the parfum du piggery on the last sealed k of Old Dookie but what promised to be a delightful daybreak had faded behind a grey curtain of cloud over Mt. Major.  

That dulled the drive, though I'll admit it was nice to be back as part of the flat earth society!  Up to the church and west on New Dookie, the breeze behind became the bonus from the prior push into it.  Steering south into Boundary Rd was tending to go 'round in circles (squares actually) though it's worth doing a distance after the lengthy ritual of readying to ride.  A waft of something expired in the long grass at the roadside (ah, the aromas you miss cocooned in a car!) rekindled the tempo down to Channel Rd, the quickest way to caffeine (almost as the crow flies) was now the priority after the craving to clock k's had been satisfied.  Sanity was saved.......for now. 

3/5 Punctures aplenty.

Away from the bunch for a week and the worries of hanging on to their hurry were already filling this silly head.  I'd be jockeying for a position at the back of the bunch to grow accustomed to their pace.   And a big grid it was  (GreatScottSteve, Gazza, TheGodfather, Kel, Kreeky, Tina, Emil, PistolPete, Bruce, Lenny, Trav and Rocket) as two squads combined.  Gazza had the Cervelo in launch mode when 5:40 struck,  Emil ugring "easy" falling on deaf ears as the rear of the line got well into the 40's to get in the wheel (attend the PistolPete School of Pace Setting Gazza!  There'll be less knives in your back!)  With all restored to line astern, Emil set a course to Mitchell Rd.  I had a sense in the sit site that said something was squishy as Rocket steered us to Central Kialla, at first I though all this level ground was messing with my head after a week of ups and downs, but that marshmallow Michelin sensation soon said where the problem was.  

A halt at Central Kialla's school found a few flints buried in the rubber that could be to blame, so with no nasty sharp stuff found by finger on the inside of the tyre, a new tube and a dose of air had the wheels turning again.  GreatScottSteve guided us for the first 2 k's of River Rd, the northeaster keeping heads down and heart rates up, but the small bump over the bridge returned that softening sensation again.  Pit stop 2 called on Emil's generosity for a tube and Kel's eagle eye for something I'd missed earlier....a microscopic glass splinter as the unwelcome intruder.  Plenty of puncture practice for me! Bruce got us down to business toward Coach Rd, maybe in an effort to make up for lost time, but I was haunted still by the sense of sponginess.  Hopefully it was just the CO2's lack-lustre 80 psi rather than puncture number three!  Each restart had shuffled the order, this time I was on Kreeky's unwavering wheel but now much closer to serving duty in the drivers seat.  Kel copped the northeaster on the open shift to the Broken bridges, handing Kreeky the task to take us to the highway.  

It may have been luck that I'd scored the somewhat sheltered shift toward Old Dookie Rd, something I hadn't banked on but relished the rarity of it.  Rather chuffed at stoking up the speed to the prior level, the trick was now to maintain it, cancelling my usual 'bail-out' option to finish at the bridge to press on till the engine started miss-firing, wherever and whenever that might be.  All went well till the fig farm, 500 metres shy of Old Dookie, when thoughts of that measly 80 psi under my seat  started to labor legs.  The power of suggestion eh?  (Funny, the glimpse of 175 bpm earlier didn't raise any white flags).  Rocket took over the tempo and I rolled rearward and readied for the acceleration west.  Wasn't it handy to have Bruce on lookout near the back, his eye sharp on anyone about to drop a wheel as the tsunami of 13 reactions to pace struck.  A long line soon got back to close quarters and looked like scoring Strava segment success till The Godfather eased my embarrassment  of puncturing with one of his own.  The wait at the roadside was worth it, sledges were world class!  The craving for caffeine was now the order of business, Lenny driving from Central Ave and Pistol continuing the urgency into the streets of town to berth at the Butter Factory.      

5/5  The woes of wind.

With not a hill within cooee of town, there's usually plenty of wind to deal with instead, a southerly at 26-39 km/h chilling Wednesday's morning to feels like 5.  The tank felt almost empty reaching the starting grid, but it didn't trouble Lenny, Kel, Rocket, Emil, PistolPete, Jen, Kreeky, Bruce, Lance, Kim, Greg, Bo, Tina, The Godfather, Boof and Gazza fronting Sanctuary's roundabout to lap up a lap.  The start was stalled while a pit crew tended to Tina's puncture  (a daily occurrence in the bunch lately)   Bruce set the squad south, but just a second or so delay by each made a big gap to fill for those at the rear, the front runners now almost half a minute ahead.   

The front 8 were off the throttle beyond the truck route till reacquainted with the rest,  Bo advancing to inspire a two row formation and keep the pack compact.  That made days of old with conversations bouncing left and right in the bunch.... how socially civil!  Out of that headwind on Mitchell Rd, enthusiasm was a little more elevated at the front, but Bruce delivered news of bits breaking off the back.  That only brought a half-hearted calm from the pacesetters.  Wednesday's cap on speed had been stretched a bit beyond, 16 had become 2 x 8  through Central Kialla but with energetic engines in both bunches, those needing a tow had workhorses with wattage to assist.  Wind whipped in at the right flank in River Rd, and being promoted to the advance line 

( Jen to the fore and Greg aft ) we had some steering to do. 

Pistol, Lenny, Gazza, Rocket and Boof had kept a cap on their abilities and settled the speed to something less than scorching so Jen and I faced driving duties for the last k of River, a slow called to regroup as one in Coach Rd.  With all back aboard, PistolPete and I did the task to the highway, Greg bidding adieu for his Channel Rd exit.  Again, back in the tow, the social stuff resumed while others faced the front.  Turning west into Old Dookie had that wind whip in at the left flank now, though I shouldn't grizzle,  just keep the echelon to a minimum Foss to keep the rear out of the gutter, there'd be far more grief driving at the front!  A few ducked from duty as their promotion forward looked likely to score the drivers job but Wednesday's a social spin, designed to gain a few recruits and rest many a labored leg from a weeks worth of work.

6/5  Un deux trois.

Frustratingly, the body clock automatically chimes at stupid o'clock, irrespective of what the alarm is set to.   A grind of gears, a puff of steam and the pre-frontal cortex spluttered into a rough idle, no hope now of a short slumber till the alarm did chime!   The ride ritual had become a runaway train.  Coffee, something in the tank, gauge how many layers from the "feels like" forecast and kit-up.  A few solitary k's will clear the cobwebs, smooth the splutter, deliver dopamine and get the endorphins flowing.   Addicted eh!  (eat,sleep, ride, repeat)   40 minutes too soon for the Wouldabeens and too late for the Sanctuary squad, a 20 k spin of the golf club loop en-route to Kialla Lakes would fill the time till the start flag was due to fall.  The slightest suggestion of a south southwester (9 km/h) got legs out of their comfort zone and to work on Numurkah Rd, finding I was chasing the smoothest section of tarmac to lighten the labor.  Still too soon at Gordon Drive, a loop of the lake fixed the start-line schedule.  Joe (not Tony) held hopes that BamBam may come out to play, experience suggesting a stall to the start time might be worth a wait.  

True to form, BamBam appeared at 6:01.   Yesterday's wind had scarred BamBam's hippocampus, so a northbound lap reached consensus.  Conforming to the ritual of first drive north to Channel then east to the truck route was made easy by my prior prologue, handing the lead to Joe (not Tony) for his contribution there.  Respite in the slipstream only survived till the Kinder.  Duty called again for a shorter shift to the cypress trees.  There's some comfort in turns being predictable I guess, time for the mental preparation at the business end even if the physical side doesn't like it!  Joe (not Tony) assumed the lead role again but undid my theory with a double shift to Channel Rd's end.  Tramadol on toast for brekky Joe?  BamBam found enough motivation on Coach Rd to continue at the front into Boundary ; I think it's called a breeze at the backside!   Over the bridge his elbow said enough, time again for me to tap a turn in the spirit of sharing.  Joe (not Tony) and BamBam shared the distance on Old Dookie Rd to Central Ave.  I'd usually take on the shift to Dobson's estate at Sanctuary's speed, but just a couple of k's slower turned my target far further to the truck route.  What a difference just a couple of k's make!   

7/5  enola reveN

Some kind soul had turned the wind off!  Akin to being on an alien planet!  Commute speed to Sanctuary approached reasonable (I could tell because Emil wasn't snoring) to the southern reaches of town where PistolPete, Tina, Kreeky, Bo, Rocket, Lenny, Boof, Wozza, Kel, The Godfather, Bruce, Greg, BamBam and Grumpy  had gathered.  Surprise, surprise, no punctures today!  PistolPete started wheels turning at 5:40 as I slotted in at third wheel behind Emil ; time enough to ready for duty at the business end. But with a big bunch, Bruce formed a second line, instantly demoting me down the order to 12th on duty.....thanks Bruce!  I could sit back and soak up the social stuff now and worry about the work later.  Over The Godfather's racket delivered on sock standards, chins wagged with Lenny, Rocket and Boof to pass a few k's away, even got to know new lad Greg with a few sentences about holidays (or his lack of them!)   

Friday meant it was kit co-ordination day so a flurry of fluoro lit up the River Rd darkness ; Greg was excused being the newcomer but BamBam being out of uniform was just plain non-conformist!  (I'll take a bet that Boof will set his socks in order from now on!)   Duty finally called me to work beyond the highway beside Grumpy when we'd finally translated The Godfather's garble of "Orll arkss spess'mins" as 'All across lads'.  The task of matching muscle power beside another is a lot of mind over matter, way different than setting your own speed, so I called a roll to Grumpy at the bridge if I was to have some jellybeans left in the jar to keep up with Emil on part two of the shift.  

My gasps must have frightened him by the fig farm, he rolled across without a word.  I was going to say thanks Emil, if it wasn't for my preoccupation with oxygen at the time! I'd done my few minutes of martyrdom to be ranked as a contributor, time now to let others feel part of the team and take pity on the old guy!  There was a brief fanfare when The Godfather reached the drivers seat on Old Dookie Rd (Rocket and Wozz riding him off their wheel!) but Kel upstaged the attention with a very audible puncture on the final leg to SPC.  Deflation is the new sensation!

This week  227km    YTD  5,124km