Day 1 of My Three Year Bicycle Tour
Upon arriving at Clydebank station, Scotland, and saying my goodbyes to the train master, I pushed my bike off the train and into the street. I put my left foot into the stirrup, pushed myself along a bit to get some momentum, which I found to be rather disheartening, obviously due to the incredible weight, and tried to throw my right leg over The Beast. I believe I managed about 20 wobbling feet of travel before I fell over.
Cripes! This thing was like trying to get a Harley upright. I stood there in the middle of the street looking at the behemoth that was to be my limousine to tour the world for three years. And here it was on its side. Immobile. I glanced around to see how many gawkers and ridiculers I may have attracted. None, but there, across the street, I spied a pub. I labouriously fought with the beast in righting it to a semi-vertical position and, with some huffing and puffing, managed to convey it over. After locking up the brute, I went inside and ordered a beer. No, it wasn’t Guiness – that’s for another story – just a simple local ale.
I needed to make some immediate analysis. As I sat at a table nearest the door so I could see my monster my first thought was, “What the hell am I doing? I’m embarking on a world tour and I can’t even tame this beast ! Do I get back on the next train and fly home with my tail between my legs?” “Waiter, another beer please” while I pondered my predicament.
During the second glass of libation, I reached into my stubbornness and independence. “Okay, maybe it’s as simple as adjusting the load?” Which I had never done back home. “Ah, ah! Thank you, my good man. I shall be shoving off now to discover the wonders of the Highlands!”
I spent several minutes moving stuff around between the four panniers, checking the balance, then I started to propel the unruly creature down the street.
Locals watching my pathetic departure were probably betting that I’d be in the ditch at the first corner. It did take about half a mile of bobbing, weaving and teetering before I finally showed the beast who was boss.
Yee haw! I’m riding a bicycle in Scotland!
Then it started to rain. For six straight weeks.
Cripes! This thing was like trying to get a Harley upright. I stood there in the middle of the street looking at the behemoth that was to be my limousine to tour the world for three years. And here it was on its side. Immobile. I glanced around to see how many gawkers and ridiculers I may have attracted. None, but there, across the street, I spied a pub. I labouriously fought with the beast in righting it to a semi-vertical position and, with some huffing and puffing, managed to convey it over. After locking up the brute, I went inside and ordered a beer. No, it wasn’t Guiness – that’s for another story – just a simple local ale.
I needed to make some immediate analysis. As I sat at a table nearest the door so I could see my monster my first thought was, “What the hell am I doing? I’m embarking on a world tour and I can’t even tame this beast ! Do I get back on the next train and fly home with my tail between my legs?” “Waiter, another beer please” while I pondered my predicament.
During the second glass of libation, I reached into my stubbornness and independence. “Okay, maybe it’s as simple as adjusting the load?” Which I had never done back home. “Ah, ah! Thank you, my good man. I shall be shoving off now to discover the wonders of the Highlands!”
I spent several minutes moving stuff around between the four panniers, checking the balance, then I started to propel the unruly creature down the street.
Locals watching my pathetic departure were probably betting that I’d be in the ditch at the first corner. It did take about half a mile of bobbing, weaving and teetering before I finally showed the beast who was boss.
Yee haw! I’m riding a bicycle in Scotland!
Then it started to rain. For six straight weeks.
posted by Musings from Idle Acres | 4:01 p.m.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home