Tuesday, 28 June 2016

Three wheels on my wagon..

They say that riding a bike, is like, well, riding a bike - you never forget how to do it.  After four years of bike famine, yesterday saw the husband and I embark on a sixteen mile round trip to the beach and back on our bikes, with the husband towing Percy and Reg in the Dog Wagon.

It didn't start well.  We had to drive to the car park where the trail starts, going over a toll bridge, costing us 70p.  All the bikes were ready to go, when the husband realised that he'd left his coat at home, along with the cushion which goes in the back of the wagon.  Back over the toll bridge he went (£1.40) leaving me with the bikes, returning about ten minutes later (£2.10).  Just as we were about to set off, he suddenly remembered that he had left the leads on the kitchen table.  Another trip over the toll bridge (£2.80) accompanied with loud cursing, shortly followed by a sheepish return another ten minutes later (£3.50).

And so we were finally off - a fantastic bike ride along the estuary, with lovely weather all the way.  Reg insisted on standing on two legs with his head through the wagon's sunroof for most of the time, and the two dogs received a lot of attention on the way.  Actually, at the first 'beer stop' Reg managed to procure treats for him and Percy just by looking cute.  If only I had taught them to tap-dance, I might have been able to afford a taxi home...

The ride back was another matter.  My derriere had been fine on the way there, but an hour's break from the saddle (beach, beer, cornets for the boys) was probably not the best thing to do.   The husband thoughtfully tied various bits of clothing around my saddle, so it wouldn't have the feel of a large razorblade, all to no avail.  The extra seat padding also had the unfortunate effect of meaning that I couldn't quite reach the pedals if I was sitting down.  Most of the journey back was done standing up like a Moto-X stunt rider, but without the mud and loud trousers. 

Limping back into the pub car park, now pushing my bike and doing a passable impression of John Wayne after a week in the saddle, I was relieved to set off back home.  Heading over the toll bridge for the sixth time in a day (£4.20) the husband suggested that we might take the bikes with us when we head off to Abersoch later in the week.

I think a stiff talk is needed...oh, and some liniment...
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