Weon

I went riding today. This is only the second ride since getting back from our travels (shout out to Ben who I met on the ride last week - give me a shout if you want to ride man!) and I can safely say that I am suffering the effects of all that beer and steak. I almost caved when I got to the top of Sandy Lane but my inner masochist forced me to push on round the back of the hill to Onetwentieth Utah. While I was riding, in between wishing I was dead and trying not to hurl, I realised how much I love the UK in the summer. Cruising along the country lanes with only the sound of my tyres rolling on the road and the songbirds hovering over the fields of barley for company, I was suddenly struck with a great sense of nostalgia, thinking back to the days when I started riding (man, I loved my '92 Marin Palisades) around my home town of Calne.

Very few people were riding at that point so us guys in the Marin Posse pretty much had the trails to ourselves. I remember Joe riding my dad's bike, going over a very steep jump, disappearing below the line of sight, only for the bike to reappear without him on it. I remember James Martin and I disappearing from school during our lunch break to go and do a lap of the Cherhill Downs. I remember crashing lots. I remember Andy Weeds showing me the virtues of the Posties Trackster. I remember planning (but not actually doing) Land's End to John O'Groats. Mostly I just remember it being great and that's what hit me this morning.

This entry was posted on Saturday, June 24th, 2006 at 2:28 pm and is filed under Bike. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.