Take care of yer pinkies!

Have a guess.  Go on.  Guess which idiot, whilst swirling his pinkies around in a hot soapy sink full of washing up suds, raking about trying to find the remaining teaspoon, managed to find the rarely used but razor sharp meat cleaver that he'd totally forgotten he'd used only moments earlier?  OOOHH!  SHHHH!  FECK!  Yeah.

Not only am I a master at slashing my fingers, I also introduce a lot of danger to my other pinkies every time I go for a ride.  Poor things.  It's a horrible existence for them.  Permanently stuck in a black sweaty hairy hammock.  Doing their best to avoid the long white pillars of blubber as they swing back and forth.  They never get to see the Sun, ever.  And they have no choice; if I decide to go for a ride then they have to come along too.  For sure there is no way yet for one to detach ones bits before a ride, leave them hung up in the pantry with the other coconuts; and, successfully reattach them and expect them still to function when you get back home.  Superglue has a lot of uses but for this job it just won't do.  

Just remembering, a mate of mine told a story about the time he had the 'snip', you know, the eye watering procedure chopping off a bit of yer bits?  He laughs when he regales how the doctors had to give up the first time because the fear of the procedure meant that his do-dah's leapt up so hard and fast into his body to avoid the knife that he ended up with lumps under both ears.   Anyway they did eventually coax them back down with a saucer of milk and whilst they were't looking they snipped the link.  Sadly, one side didn't heal too well.  All I know now is that every time he winks he gets an erection...

I've been out on the bike three times since the last blog entry.  The weather has been fantastic for late March / early April and for sure I'm gonna take every opportunity there is this year to go for a spin.

I was particularly happy that my nephew asked if he could come out for a ride with me.  Really?  A 21 year old who has not been out of his bedroom since he was 12?  I feared for his safety and for his bat like features.  The bright daylight might cause him to sizzle away.  Or it might just frazzle his delicate pale white skin.  His pinkies for sure are going to get the shock of their lives after having nigh on 9 years sprawled out on a bed in a comfortably warm 'n roomy pair of boxer shorts just suffering an occasional scratch as one might do to help pass the time.  

My pinkies, being quite wise, were concerned over what was about to happen to his so did suggest that I take him out for a gentle ride with a pillow attached to his gel seat.  For sure there was a risk of a mutiny should the sea state become rough.  Also I did not think his pinkies were quite ready to get friendly with their neighbour being that his horrid gel seat was imminently going to introduce them to the arse hole next door.  All they have ever seen of him so far is something being slipped out of his basement window into Hughie's telephone (something often used by drunk teenagers I recall) most mornings / nights just before or after bed.  What a way to be introduced to the crappy neighbour.  Poor things.

Anyway we're away towards Stamford Bridge via Dunnington with a good breeze to our rear.  Almost immediately we were overtaken by a black snake or two.  See! See!, I yelled, 'they're fecking everywhere'.  But the aim of today was to be gentle with his bits so all lah-de-dah gunner Graham like we strolled on the back routes and trails across the country into Stamford Bridge.  

However being a young 'un with brash young brazen testicles the second half, the return leg, was into a headwind and he's off!  Driven no doubt by the extra testosterone that a set of young fresh cherries may generate.  My warnings were not heeded.  I had to press on too to keep up with the wannabe fecking snake.  But then the wind hit him.  Like being slapped in the kisser by a garage door accidentally opened into a stiff breeze just as he turned around to say 'nice day innit uncle Wayne'.  Ah the youth of nowadays still bereft of the experience that 58 years on this planet endows.  

We get home 19.5 miles later.  Bit more for me cos I cycled to his house and back home too.  His mum comes to the door with a worried look on her face.  He rolled up with streaming eyeballs, a wide toothy grin frozen on his face and hair blown straight back as though he's been arguing with an industrial leaf blower.  

The next ride was again a lovely day so instead of sticking to the pre planned loop I find myself wandering again lah-de-dah gunner Graham like much further afield.  In fact what turned into a just short of 50 miler.  Wow!  I'm nearly back into the over 50's club.  I'm riding along roads not seen for the last 30 years.  Roads that I used to drive along looking apparently like the Honey Monster in a small van when I was a young telephone exchange engineer back in the 80's.  Back along a road which holds a vivid memory of watching a combine harvester working hard in a bone dry cloud of wheat dust one sunny September afternoon.  

It's like my life's timeline is now running in reverse.  That is, in some distant time I will be a baby again.  Re-living all those youthful years this time with the experience that a lifetime brings.  Erk!  Do I really want to relive my teens?  Well there might be something to look forward too.  At least I'll eventually be back on the nipple :-)

Anyway onto roads not ridden nor driven before.  I turn right at a junction into an uphill grade in a small wooded cutting and am immediately hit by the sweet smell of wild garlic.  Pungent and strong.  Suddenly I'm overtaken by a pretty young (yes both pretty and young) racing snake.  Wearing a blue mascara coloured top and with a polite hello she pulls out ahead of me.  

Feck this - I know I'm not of an age nor a weight to chase pretty snakes who had what I would rate as a very muscular rear end (...of the bike, the bike fer God's sake!) although the cycling short padding did result in additional lumps and bumps in all the right places.  So I'm off.  

My youth has returned.  My testicles had totally forgotten about their age and their horrid smooching with the crap neighbour next door and are now positively jumping up and down in their rooms.  I follow her, latched on at a polite and safe distance of course so as not to accidentally end up with my nose in the wrong place.  And away we go.  

This is us with me in the chase!

I look down at the crap nav.  Twenty-miles-per-hour!  Seriously!  Where the feck did that come from!?  Surely I'm going down hill.  But no - the stream that ran tangental across our path under the small bridge confirmed that we were on the flat.  Feckin' hell!  

But as in the video, I blew up too.  Sadly, the uphill section brought that little escapade to an end.  It's no good.  No matter how hard I try to drop gears and spin my legs there is no way this barrel of lard is gonna go up hills as fast as a svelte snake.  The dream is over.  I watch as she slowly but surely pulls away, crests the next hill and disappears into the distance.  

Where did that come from?  I've not had a spurt on like that for many a year.  I look down and catch my right testicle giving me a sly grin just before turning its attention back to the left one to continue to give it CPR.  Of course my current diet and so the lack of carbohydrates meant that the ride home was with dead legs.  The wind finally now at my back gently caressed my ears and whispered, 'there there, neva mind, you poor thing...'

Forty-seven miles.  I've just cycled forty-seven miles I mumble to myself.  First proper long ride this year.  York to Scarborough distances.  Things are definitely improving!

The continued reduction in carbs is having an impact.  My clothing again isn't quite as spray on as it was over winter.  I'm eating tons of the salad stuff.  Bread has gone.  So have potatoes.  No more pasta.  However I do partake in a little bit of rice every now and again.  I take my blood pressure.  118/69 with a resting heart rate of 47.  The best ever!!!

The final ride yesterday was a short loop out from home connecting Acomb, Rufforth, Bilbrough, Appleton Roebuck, etc.  Just a short ride today cos I only have an hour or two to spare and it's a bit windy innit.  I love the wind.  For sure my legs take an age to warm up.  It's five miles or so before the power is available on tap.  But again, even in my carbo depleted body there it is.  I'm cruising along at 16mph.  Unheard of last year.  

The run from Bilbrough takes me across a bridge over the A64.  A car is following but not overtaking.  I'm up to 18MPH!  I assume it's driver and passenger are just so agog watching a fat man go so fast that they decide to follow and wait for the inevitable explosion.  Even the ramp up to the top of the bridge isn't hard work today.  I positively fly up.  Leg muscles are hard.  Fully squeezing out every drop of energy.  I'm focussed on the drive up hoping, just hoping that I do not drop a con-rod and blow a knee out.  

And it does not stop!  I'm on the road towards Appleton Roebuck.  Still 18mph.  There's a cyclist up ahead in the distance.  Game on!  I'm after him.  I catch him looking over his shoulder and he's immediately stood up in the pedals.  I push again.  HARD!  I speed up.  I am a Lion chasing Zebra meat.  I'm gonna have him for dinner! 

Sadly my planned stop at the railway bridge lay by for a small oat and honey bar and some liquids arrives just before I catch him.  Lucky critter.  Like a fat Cheetah in a failed high speed hunt I cruise to a halt.  Game over.  Time for a scheduled break.  Perhaps next time.  

But woe is me.  Fifteen minutes later I'm back on the bike but my legs have frogged off.  Where have they gone?  All I can assume is that in the mad chase all available fuel was dumped on the fire to get the pressure up in the boiler.  I look at Audrey II who stares back through her monobrow and shrugs, holds her hands up and points at the empty coal stores.  She cannot help me today.  She's surrounded with the remains of the day, white ash strewn about the basement which has given all the energy it ever had.  And it's a headwind tae boot back home.  

I'm caught by another snake.  A proper black one, neatly coiffured, all in shiny lycra, spinny legs, and away he goes.  I'm doing my bestest impression of the Ever Green container ship.  200,000 tons of blubber stuck across the road waiting for the next high tide and a plethora of tugs to help me on my way.  But no, wait.  What are you doing Audrey II?  Some energy returns.  I spot another black snake ahead.  Must be a broken one cos for sure he's going slow.  I press on and again catch him, into the headwind, overtake with a polite hello and leave him in my wake!  

What's happening?  For sure my mind is regressing and perhaps bits of this fat blubber filled old bag of bones is regressing too?  Feeling young again?  Perhaps?  No not quite.  Whilst for sure it was a lovely spring day I do realise that my body is stuck in the month of September, and as hard as I may try, it's slowly but surely meandering towards October.  

Oh to have an Indian summer in ones life...  

They often make for the bestest of memories - just before the winter arrives...

Ciao for now

PS

FYI, I saw my nephew walking down the street a couple of days later like John Wayne at the end of a long hard ride.  Legs were four foot apart.  If he'd put on the cowboy suit, plastic Stetson and cap guns that I'd bought him for one of his christmases I'm sure he'd have passed the relaunch audition for the new Village People.  

And I thought riding a bike made my testicles sore!  Wowzers!

PPS

Old joke

Q:  How do elephants hide in the jungle?  

A: They paint their testicles red and climb up into cherry trees.  

Q: What's the loudest sound in the jungle?  

A: Monkeys eating cherries...

Ciao..