So last night was a just a little bit shite. For once I was actually going to be at the start point on time. Bike ready, camelback ready, lid on my head and gloves on my hands- ready to go. Then I get my shoes and here one of the cleats rattling, no probs thinks I. I’ll just tighten up I’ve got five minutes to spare and I’ll be on my way.
No, wasn’t destined to be. Twenty minutes later I’d freed the seized hex bolts and managed to get it tight again.
On the bike I flew up to Petes gaff and everyone was waiting for me including Steve of Bad Brains GingaChin fame. (Hi Steve you jinx!)
From there on it was the usual Drighlington Destroyer route with a slight detour that Pete and I had discovered on the Saturday morning previous which while adding little distance to the ride cuts out a fairly boring part.
Down the path before Howley Hall ruins Pete led me astray (make of that what you want) and I fairy-ed it down a path having to walk down. Yep I’m a card carrying coward.
From there we were steady away and to quote the phrase most heard in Bike Shops with regards to warranty claims: “I was just riding along†when I heard an almighty crunch. I’d ridden over this:
Which caused this:
And this:
Not.
A.
Happy.
Bunny.
Pete, Shiela and Steve walked with me to the main road where I rang Mrs Fat Lad to come and get me.
Fat Lad
If you’re eagle eyed enough you should see a blue spot (waypoint) thats where the deed was done….
GPS LOG
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