April 5th, 2010

If I may gloat

This day, Monday 5 April 2010, saw the annual running of Kooragang Open Cycling Club's Easter public holiday invitational scratch races. You may note from the photos, it was a little dirty out there, on a wet road but with little actual rain to wash us all clean (commuters who own bikes with no mud guards, heed what you are spraying all over your jeans!)

However, the important news, is I won. Me baby. Bloody me. I sat snug in the bunch until the very last moment when bang, out I came out of nowhere, releasing a gigantic yaaaar on the line. If one can not enthuse when victorious, then really, what would we have left?

After za race, I took Za-Bear for a ride on the back of "Ratty" my Raleigh, giving him my new pocket sized, bike blogger issue, digital camera to snap at whatever he liked. He was fascinated by our shadows, god bless him. If I may gloat a while longer, Za-Bear is a genius.

Reader of the week: Gusto

Occasionally one meets a person half their own age, who seems twice as advanced in some ways. Take this week's reader of the week Gusto, a fellow who found our bike polo match via a university bike users group, with which I am associated. He arrived on the very same faux Pashley Guv'nor, that fellow bike nuts and I have been admiring for weeks now, chained up near the student union. Finally! The faux Guv'nor's rider! 

It turns out our low budget bike nut has already been through the whole Bakfiet thing, has fixie skills sufficient to play polo in a big gear and toe clips, is a member of some kind of bike gang that looks thoroughly frightful, and has a diary filled with completely insane ideas for cycling competitions the Australian Cycling Federation would run away from in horror. He brings to cycling the enthusiasm I wasted on punk bands and poetry when I was his age. And what a relief, to meet a guy from gen-Y who does not have a sucked mango hairdo, glue on muscles from The Forum gymnasium, and a phone full of bottle-blonds' numbers!
   
Seems not only my son is smitten by shadows.            Strapped in, big gear, whacker in hand.                    Not dead yet again! 

Gusto, your elders in cycling salute you! (Um, just one little thing though, would you please not roll through with our peloton, at least until you can hold a straight line? It's just... we have families.)