Tales of a cyclist: Part 2 - The catherine wheel...

in #cycling7 years ago (edited)

following the leader.jpg

Two months had passed since my initial incident. If you haven't read that yet it is probably best to start there. Tales of a cyclist: Part 1 - In the beginning...

My pedals had been adjusted and the sight of me clipping and un-clipping was truly majestic to behold. The lycra had been ditched for a more flattering pair of shorts and t-shirt.
(This was a direct result of my wife making a snide comment comparing me to those two sea lions from Finding Dory)

Finding Dory Sea Lions

I was progressing nicely, more road confidence, faster times, easier climbs, well on my way to becoming a professional. And to boot I was having a whale of a time, the space, the freedom, the wind in my ever diminishing hairline, it was simply a wonderful experience. No more of those trials and tribulations that are a direct result of public transport.

Obviously there were a smattering of bad days. Days where I had to wring out my gloves, pour rain water out of my shoes or shout at motorists who passed within an inch of my handlebars.

But then there were the truly awful days! Days where I felt so much guilt that I can only finally bear to talk about it a year on.

The catherine wheel ride...


The ride started like any other, a fast downhill country road, followed by a busier built up section and then onto a cycle path.

Just after starting on the path I noticed another cyclist about 300 yards behind. I upped my gear and kicked, I was adamant that I wasn't going to be overtaken, after all my ego had reinflated significantly over the past couple of months.

Two minutes later I looked over my shoulder to check the status of my chaser, 100 yards! He was obviously better than me, and that was NOT allowed. To make matters worse, I noticed that he was one of those numpties who had purchased themselves a sky team onesie, despite not being part of the team.

sky team.jpg

30 seconds later I checked again, 50 yards, oh my god, this was not good. I pushed myself harder, my heart almost beating through my chest and struggling to breath.

Another 30 seconds, I knew he was on me now, drafting in my slipstream. It would only be a matter of seconds before I would be reading those 3 letters emblazoned across his arse, S...K...Y... I needed a miracle.

God provided!

I hit the biggest shit I have ever seen! If I didn't know better I would have thought it had come from a bear and the consistency was questionable, the bear probably had a vindaloo the night before.

The front wheel went through and then the back, all the while flicking poo everywhere. Think bonfire night, think catherine wheel. Think Slow Mo guys with a drill and some paint.

I was mortified, I couldn't look. By the time I had mustered up the courage to turn around, he had already stopped, was off his bike and looked to be spitting (could have been vomitting) in to the hedgerows.

My first thought was, "Yes I fucking won!" My second, "eww, it must have gone in his mouth."

Needless to say I wasn't hanging around to find out. I finished my commute with a personal best time. Cleaned the residual crap off of myself and my bike and went about my business. The story never to be told again, until now.

A month later in the heart of the Scottish winter I got my comeuppance...

Continue to Part 3 - Death by female pleasure giver

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Great post. U must be so deturment, I would have giving up a long time ago...lol
Love the video, really cool painting with a drill never seen that before.....thats something I would try :0) thx for sharing

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