2-Wheel Tetris at HTB

How many bikes can you fit in the parking if you really try?

Unexpected Wales

The Bridge was very atmospherically shrouded in mist and cloud and absolutely freezing. But it and the roads in Wales were lined with far more spectators than I'm used to.
The route, once in Wales, went round (and round and up and over and down) the houses - and people had brought their garden chairs and morning tea down to the bottom of their driveways the better to cheer and wave. I am not used to such a warm reception. No biker is. Usually the people shouting are swearing at us, not cheering.
Chepstow itself closed off its square and nearby parking lot for us, and had set up stalls and a band. Lynn was expecting bigger, I wasn't expecting anything at all. We found a coffee shop which was as heaving as every other cafe, but the queue seemed to be moving (it had very efficient service, even if they'd decided all drinks were grande regardless of price charged). I have to say, every time I've been in Wales, I've found very good coffee. It's a major bonus for Wales (in my caffeine-addicted book).
We came back in winds so strong and cold I could barely breathe, paused for a thaw-out with the family again and across the Mendips to the A303. Which was beautiful, but we should have taken the A38 (also nice) and the M4. then maybe I wouldn't have been quite as soaked or quite as late. Notes for next time.

Hogging the Parking

I finally did Hoggin' The Bridge. I've been aware fo this run for a while, but as it's Bristol to Wales, which makes it too far for a day run, and late in the year, I've never done it before. This year,  Lynn decided she was doing it and organised a ride. I called my conveniently placed sister for a bed the night before.
We met up at the Ace cafe, which was a waste, as neither Lynn nor I was massively hungry, and the Ace does amazing huge breakfasts. And no-one else pitched up. Their loss. We had a clear run down to Glastonbury on a collection of roads I wish I could remember codes for because they were lovely, winding this way and that between Tank Crossing signs. I looked all around, but didn't see a tank. Ever since Kelly's Heroes, I have a soft spot for tanks, because I automatically think of Donald Sutherland playing tank commander and hippy (20 years too early, but never mind).
We stopped in Glastonbury for lunch. The really nice thing about Glastonbury is that there is a choice of places I can eat without having to construct a meal out of side dishes. Or pick tuna out the mixed salad.
On Sunday we got up, bundled up, saddled up and motorwayed up to the meeting point at Severn View services. Given the clouds and temperature, I was not expecting so many bikes. Given the name of the event, I was not expecting such a mix of bikes, or for it to be sponsored by Mercedes. BMW at least make bikes.
There were fresh donuts at one stall. Talk about knowing your audience on a cold morning.

Air Pollution

I was planning to do a blog about Ride To The Wall, which is in its 5^th year.  One thing and another, this was not to be.  Among various work and exhaustion issues, the significant one is that my bike has developed the mechanical version of asthma. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s living all covered up and closed off from the fresh smog of London. Maybe it’s just living in the fresh smog of London, but my bike has very frighteningly developed a nasty stutter, the hiccoughs, a coughing fit. Hell, maybe she’s just caught the common cold.

She certainly doesn’t like starting up these days – it’s cold. And I’m out of her winter additive. If she is sick because I’ve not bought her more vitamins? I guess that’s fair enough, but it’s not all that cold yet. Winter Fuel Additive is supposed to be for winter, and it’s barely autumn.

I’ll be riding along, perfectly happy, and she’ll be purring at being on the road, and suddenly her speedo drops to zero, her engine light flashes on and while she doesn’t quite cut out, she stutters and chokes and then suddenly behaves again.

Which, at 70 mph, isn’t the world’s most reassuring experience for the rider. So I abandoned my plans for a longer ride and limped her home. Every time I relaxed, thinking her asthma attack was over? She did it again.

I guess I’m calling the mechanic this week… 

Astro-Tar

Instant Lawn and Astro turf come in rolls that you unroll on the relevant patch of ground and trim to size. Hey presto – instant green. Astrotar is the same basic principle applied to roads.  Which is fine, cool, a good idea, even. But not when you make the stuff out of sugar-syrup. And especially not when you have Britain’s weather. Because while it might make for fewer potholes and better wearing road surfaces (I don’t know whether it does, I’m not an engineer), and I’m guessing it works out cheaper than the old fashioned way (again, speculative – I’m not an accountant either), and while this new method might possibly be greener than traditional asphalt, it’s also going to cause more accidents. Because like diesel, like petrol, like oil, like paint, like that damn special-order gaffer-tape they used for the Olympic lanes – it’s slippery as all hell when wet.  Just because molasses  is the right damn colour is no damn reason to put it on  the road. What part of tires need to grip did they miss or don’t they drive (or ride, or take the occasional bus)?

Black Rabbits, White Elephants & Red Owls

A couple of weeks ago, I went on a chapter run down to Arundel. To, in fact, a very nice pub just beyond Arundel, along the river. It’s called The Black Rabbit and I actually had choices on their menu. They also have the sense to do mini-desserts, which are a lovely size with coffee. But enough about them. This is a bike blog, not BeerintheEvening or UrbanSpoon.

The ride down went on roads I’ve seldom used and go down that way quite a lot. (Arundel has more than the usual number of biker-friendly eateries, and it’s a nice distance from London for a shorter run).  And as we meandered in a very long snake up and around and down Box Hill I realised that while there are probably many white elephants left over from the Games,  there is a definite legacy.  It’s the lovely newly tarred, smooth and beautiful road surface at Box Hill.  One of the reasons I don’t use that road is that the last time I went down it, it was revoltingly gravelly and pot-holed.  Thank heavens for Olympic road cycling events.

About a week later, Lynn and I headed out for a Sunday ride – thinking of revisiting Arundel, when we realised that autumn has arrived. It’s chilly these mornings, and cloudy and breezy. Coffee is frequently required, if only to clutch the cup and thaw our fingers. So we stopped at the red sign of the Wise Owl in Kingsfold, on the road I will forever call the Duck Road after the duck and her ducklings who crossed it in front of my 125cc way back in the day while Lynn rode ahead wondering where I’d got to now.  The Owl’s sign used to be green and it used to pretentious with prices to match and no concept of service. It’s changed hands and colours, if not names, and vastly improved.  It serves biscuits with its coffee, which is always a plus in a pub and saves me ordering dessert.  (Which is a mixed blessing).