Fat Lad is a Freak

I've always been a little bit, ahem, different. In fact Mrs Fat Lad has called me "Special" many many times, with about fifty-fifty usage of the quotation marks with her fingers to go with her assertion. In my normal, everyday existence I'm completely random in everything I do. I have before now left my car keys in the fridge for example, and will do things in the most chaotic nature possible and entirely at random. Once again the better half of my relationship equation has said "I wish I knew what is going on in that head of yours...." on more than one occasion. But when it comes to the bike, well, I'm treading the rocky precipice of autism.

Certain things must be done or a good ride will not be guaranteed. I truly believe that if certain routines are not upheld the upcoming pedalling will be jinxed. So, for your reading pleasure I present hear a few of my peculiarities.


Whilst getting my kit ready I will wander the house muttering "helmet,gloves,bandana,helmet,gloves,bandana" until I've packed up my sports bag with them in. If I suddenly remember it's my turn for cake or to take something for another rider it'll change to "helmet,gloves,bandana,CAKE,helmet,gloves,bandana,cake, helmet,gloves,bandana,cake,HANDLEBARS,helmet,gloves,bandana,cake,handlebars" ad nauseum. (When I type these things up, I wonder how Mrs Fat Lad has not yet smothered me in my sleep....)

So if you can now picture our intrepid MTBing Rain Man wandering round chez Fat Lad getting ready mumbling away, he now ambles to the sink to prepare his hydration needs. Out comes the Camelbak bladder, the contents poured away swirling down the plughole. The tap is turned on to full force and the Camelbak bladder is filled. Then I empty it again. Fill it up again. Three times this cycle is remorselessly performed, three times before it's placed back into my Cloudwalker sack. Three times. Not two, not four, three. Are we all in understanding? Good.

Camelbak ready, our shambling fool goes to inflate his tyres. If in the garage with the track pump available; he'll carefully inflate to the desired pressure (using the patented "Pete Pinch" test) and then for good measure stick another five strokes worth in. Out on the trail, with a mini pump, it would be ten.

Finally out on the trail, dry mouthed; our mantra-mumbling-muppet will drink from the bite valve but only after spitting the first mouthful to the ground. No matter how bad the thirst. Now I know some of you may say something like "but the first mouthful from the tube of a hydration pack always tastes vile, we do that too", but you see that's an actual sound reason and not trail karma balancing superstition.

Hammering the cranks and at the first metal torturing sounds of a failed gear change our rotund rider will have to cry "Can't find it Grind it!". Every. Single. Time.

If anyone should mutter the oft repeated oath for warding away bad luck; "touch wood" in the presence of the chunky cyclist he must with gloved hand tap his lid twice.....

Now, I'm a rational guy. You may have gleaned from these here pages that I'm a godless heathen atheist and my background is scientific/engineering in nature. But, but, I firmly believe things will go wrong if I don't follow all the above regimes...... Superstition at it's worst. If any of these little teeny things go wrong I'm convinced that something is going to go horribly wrong.

So when on Sunday just gone I found myself so short of time that I only topped up the water in my Camelbak I feared for the very worst.

"What's that nurse? My time at the terminal is up but I've only just started...Can I have one of the blue pills, but orally this time?"

Fat Lad

Fat Lad is Worried....

I'm just setting off out of the door on a Sunday jaunt and I have deliberately broken one of my pre-ride routines.... if the very fabric of the cosmos starts to unravel while I'm out I can only apologise.

I do fear for my fellow riders however....

All will be explained soon after my return........

Fat Lad

Fat Lad Needs....

Fat Lad: Sweetheart, I need some new wheels, the old ones are groaning a bit and these are very bling for the price....

Mrs Fat Lad: Will they make the climbs any more rewarding or the descents any more satisfying?


Fat Lad: Okay, but, Darling, those handlebars of mine are looking a little tired now I was thinking of these ones...

Mrs Fat Lad: Will they make the warmth of the Summer shine longer or rush the Winter through to the spring?


Fat Lad: well no, but honey bunch, the suspension forks on my steed were state of the art when Ned Overend was a boy, these are the latest and bestest and would make it ride like a new bike...
Mrs Fat Lad: Will they make the good rides better? Will they make the epic's more epic? Will they make the smile any wider?


Fat Lad: errm, right, but babe, look at these cranks! Super light, stiff and looks to die for..

Mrs Fat Lad: Will they make every ride even more of an adventure or make the post ride pub ride bragging any truer?


Fat Lad: look this isn't fair! Oooh, boutique titanium frame, think of the potential of that...

Mrs Fat Lad: Will it make the miles and memories of past rides brighter in your thoughts? Will it make the climbs less rewarding and the trail call out to you more?


Fat Lad: what sweetie? Wow, shiny!! New model GPS all the buttons and features a geek could ever hope for...

Mrs Fat Lad: Will it pin point your soul and keep it on the trail? Will it lead a better path out into the night to meet friends for miles, smiles, and the hipflask? Will it show the way to a better ride?


Fat Lad: No. No it Wont. Sigh.
Just these two inner tubes then please mate...