[email protected] wrote:
> When did you last fall off your bike?
July 25th 2004. Having successfully outsprant Messrs. Fleming & Setter
after almost, but not quite, 29 laps of Castle Combe, I approached Camp
Corner with considerable gusto. On the right, diligently sticking to the
edge of the track, was Colin Chadfield's Trice Micro, whom I was about to
lap for the fifth time. So I moved out a bit to pass him, at which juncture
Cosimo seemed to display a marked reluctance to continue negotiating the
corner. Perhaps the track was a bit greasy - I was crossing the tail of the
starting grid and there'd been a light shower earlier in the race - or
perhaps I was just trying too hard.
I realised I had three options available:
1. Attempt to make Cosimo turn the corner anyway. This, I reasoned, would
make him fall over and, from bitter experience garnered at Eastway some two
months previously, would result in an unpleasant loss of parts of Mr.
Larrington against the nasty hard abrasive tarmac.
2. Continue on the then-current trajectory and hope for the best. This,
however, could well have resulted in 100+ kg of Cosimo & Mr Larrington
charging into the spectating Clan Goodman at 50 km/h, which would have been
unlikely to do either them or me much good.
3. Straighten up, hit the brakes and head for the grass.
I chose # 3, and managed to lose a fair bit of kinetic energy before
mounting the greensward. However, a locked front wheel on damp grass... and
down I went, in a cursing heap, right at the feet of my grate frend Dai
Infidel and her husband, Mr. Infidel. Messrs. Setter and Fleming, laughing
themselves silly, went on to bag first and second unfaired while I picked my
sorry carcass off the deck and pushed Cosimo over the line for third.
Bah!
At least I was undamaged, and was able to extract BEER from the back of the
motorcar, load up, drive home, have a bath and dinner, and listen to Loud
Music[1] with no ill-effects.
Until the following morning, when I awoke unable to move my left arm without
making all sorts of undignified howling noises. I /had/ to go into the Nut
Mines, however, as the place had been powered-off over the weekend and I was
the only employee with sufficient mastery of Babbage-SCIENCE to reboot the
Alpha box. The remainder of the week was mostly spent in bed, with an added
dose of Growing Old Disgracefully in the A&E department of Whipps Cross
hostipal, where they told me it wasn't broken and prescribed some
weapons-grade painkillers.
Which unfortunate state of affairs obliged me to miss that year's Dunwich
Dynamo.
Bah encore!
1 - <URL:http://www.amplifiertheband.com>
--
Dave Larrington
<http://www.legslarry.beerdrinkers.co.uk>
If you want a bicycle, buy a bicycle. If you want something
that folds, buy a deckchair.
