So, waiting for a real bike wasn't working for me, I wanted a bike, anything with two wheels and pedals that was capable of going forwards, and there it was, my dad's busted up Diamondback 'Topanga' huge wheels rusty chain, the works. I first had to repair a puncture which was no problem i guess, Steven arrived shortly after, ready for the session ahead. We set off from my house, picked up Steven's bike and off we rode to meet Ben. Gunning it down hills, trying to imitate the guys from mash, to no avail. We met bet at Dalton square and picked up, this is where things got a little more interesting, we lit up on the quay, having met the Italian Stallion along the way. Crossed the railway bridge and onward to Salt Ayre, no worries, no qualms. Upon arrival at Salt Ayre we discovered a rather hefty dirt hill which, without much debate we rode down, no suspension, nothing. After that rather unsettling episode, rode around the car park for a while, took up a bench and Steven rolled up again, while me and Issy pissed about ( still awaiting pictures). We got the call form Naylor: '10 minutes, top of town.' and there we had our mission, Salt Ayre to the top of Lancaster 10 minutes, rather intoxicated, off we rode into the dark night. We made it in good time, Naylor hadn't yet arrived. Sat there waiting, i saw a look of distress on Steven's face, i turned to look what it was, and there i see a police van pulling up to us, and if you have ever been in the state we were, you would know how fucking scary that shit is. Turns out, contrary to popular belief, he just wanted a word with us about bike safety, seeing as i had no light and a black jacket on, the nice police man, a cyclist himself I'll have you know, went on his way and we soon met Ben. Steven got his bag back(which is the main reason we were meeting Ben) and we, once again, set off into the night. I can't quite remember what happened after this, oh yeah, we followed the one way system round and ma and Steven decided to chip down the huge hill towards the bus station, i turn the corner, top speed, to find a group of drunk students in my path, as clear as my head is know i can easily think of a solution for what lay ahead of me, but in that state i just closed my eyes and hoped for the best, and luckily all i got was an earful, thank you god. I think after this, the yellow belly Issy fucked off home, leaving me and Steven. The munchies were starting to hit me, so i decided, spend all the money I had for the upcoming week, in one go at Domino's, so off we trotted to Domino's. Texas BBQ it was and it only took 10 minutes, as we got outside i realised what i had just done, huge pizza+bike=fail. I walked the majority of the way, stopping once to re-bake, then i decided to risk it, the pizza went on the handle bars and off i flew down some hill towards my house. Then who do i see coming up the hill? Mappleby and his chums, doing god knows what. When asked what i was doing i replied with 'fucking baked man' they understood my situation and let me be, after a short burst of laughter. I arrived home, put the bike away and off into the 'Batcave' i went. Laptop on, pizza out, music loud, i sat and ate the pizza watched some biking videos and spoke to some peeps on msn, feeling rather happy with myself. Got talking to Ciaran and he informed me that he was going cycling the next day, asked me if I was up for it, reluctantly i said yes, but sat here now, having just got back, I'm glad i did.
The following morning i was awoken by a text from Ciaran saying he would be there in about an hour, I inquired where 'there' was, a got my coordinates and shortly after i set off, no food, nothing, bad idea. I chipped to Halton as fast as my wee chicken legs would go, thinking i was late, turns out they weren't there and so i waited 10 minutes, and sure enough they turned up, had a bit of a giggle at my bike, and off we went down thee cycle path onward to Morecambe. Now both Ciaran and Turner have road bikes, which are a lot faster that that pile of anal discharge trying to pass off as a bike that i was riding, so as expected i was pedaling twice as hard as those fucks trying to keep up, by the time we got to the Millennium bridge i was fucked, well and truly, but i wasn't quitting yet, they kindly slowed the pace a little to let me catch up, we cruised for a while and took a break at the race track at Salt Ayre, I had a quick go on Turner's bike and then went round the track on Ciaran's, this was later described by me as being like'working in a mansion massaging hot girls then going back the the cardboard box you call home', nearly cried they were that fun to ride, and sadly i had to go back to my pile of wank ass gay bike, we headed back on the cycle track towards Morecambe, upon arrival at Morrison's we locked up the beasts and headed in. After the pizza the night before i was low on funds so Ciaran kindly contributed to my re-hydration fund, got myself some Relentless and a couple of Snickers bars ftw, ignoring Ciaran's mockery of my choice of energy food. We rode onto the promenade and ate our supplies and then headed back towards Lancaster, hitting up a few main roads along the way, roundabout+me+bike=messy trousers, i pussied out half way round and started tearing up the pavement, I turned on the gas and caught up with the peloton. As we were near Steven's i thought I'd give him a ring, turns out he was in so we stopped off at his, had a chat, got my bike pump back form the previous night, and then set back on course. We re-joined the cycle path and continued on our journey, despite the other two burning me off a couple of times it was a pretty gentle return journey, one that i could keep up with. Once again we stopped of at the race track, I had another go on Ciaran's bike, timed laps of the course proved how unfit i was making Ciaran look like a veteran cyclist, despite Ciarans second run being 2 seconds slower i managed to beat my first time, but at a cost, my legs soon turned to jelly and the remainder of the ride home was hard, thankfully i didn't have very far to go. As soon as we crossed the Millennium bridge i hung a right whereas the other two hung a left, separating us, I was heading home, the other two back to the car, although they did not see me turn and I imagine a very brief moment of confusion for them soon followed. I arrived home very tired, legs don't work and i stink like a sack of shit, but one thing is on my mind, and one thing only:
The following morning i was awoken by a text from Ciaran saying he would be there in about an hour, I inquired where 'there' was, a got my coordinates and shortly after i set off, no food, nothing, bad idea. I chipped to Halton as fast as my wee chicken legs would go, thinking i was late, turns out they weren't there and so i waited 10 minutes, and sure enough they turned up, had a bit of a giggle at my bike, and off we went down thee cycle path onward to Morecambe. Now both Ciaran and Turner have road bikes, which are a lot faster that that pile of anal discharge trying to pass off as a bike that i was riding, so as expected i was pedaling twice as hard as those fucks trying to keep up, by the time we got to the Millennium bridge i was fucked, well and truly, but i wasn't quitting yet, they kindly slowed the pace a little to let me catch up, we cruised for a while and took a break at the race track at Salt Ayre, I had a quick go on Turner's bike and then went round the track on Ciaran's, this was later described by me as being like'working in a mansion massaging hot girls then going back the the cardboard box you call home', nearly cried they were that fun to ride, and sadly i had to go back to my pile of wank ass gay bike, we headed back on the cycle track towards Morecambe, upon arrival at Morrison's we locked up the beasts and headed in. After the pizza the night before i was low on funds so Ciaran kindly contributed to my re-hydration fund, got myself some Relentless and a couple of Snickers bars ftw, ignoring Ciaran's mockery of my choice of energy food. We rode onto the promenade and ate our supplies and then headed back towards Lancaster, hitting up a few main roads along the way, roundabout+me+bike=messy trousers, i pussied out half way round and started tearing up the pavement, I turned on the gas and caught up with the peloton. As we were near Steven's i thought I'd give him a ring, turns out he was in so we stopped off at his, had a chat, got my bike pump back form the previous night, and then set back on course. We re-joined the cycle path and continued on our journey, despite the other two burning me off a couple of times it was a pretty gentle return journey, one that i could keep up with. Once again we stopped of at the race track, I had another go on Ciaran's bike, timed laps of the course proved how unfit i was making Ciaran look like a veteran cyclist, despite Ciarans second run being 2 seconds slower i managed to beat my first time, but at a cost, my legs soon turned to jelly and the remainder of the ride home was hard, thankfully i didn't have very far to go. As soon as we crossed the Millennium bridge i hung a right whereas the other two hung a left, separating us, I was heading home, the other two back to the car, although they did not see me turn and I imagine a very brief moment of confusion for them soon followed. I arrived home very tired, legs don't work and i stink like a sack of shit, but one thing is on my mind, and one thing only:
I want a fucking bike, and I want it now!
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