Super whizzy weenie

Having buddied S the last two days I've been going at quite a sedate pace but this morning I was alone.

And my goodness I was fast.

I set off a bit late and was all panicked but I sit here, freshly showered, at my desk, blogging a full 10 minutes before work technically begins. Shocking stuff.

I overtook several people, including two who were red light jumping but I still managed to lose them eventually, and I was nearly hit by a van that swerved into my lane because he 'didn't expect me to be going so fast!' He apologised and as there was a small and frightened-looking child in the van with him I let it go. It was a genuine error rather than malicious and he apologised, which is more than most.

I sped off once more and, joy of joys, the whole of the hill in Acton was empty of cars and the lights were with me. Bugger all traffic meant that even the many vans parked in the cycle lane weren't a problem as I didn't have to swing in and out of the cycle lane continually.

I pedalled on towards Shepherds Bush and the lights remained with me. The enormous bus lane and flat road on that section means it can be very quick and glancing at my speedometer I was shocked to see I'd hit 36kph. Shocked but smug, obviously.

I then swept down the hill to Hammersmith in triumph.

All in all, a marvelous commute, hurray!

It just all adds weight to my argument that the Uxbridge Road is a far better cycle superhighway than the A40 route proposed by the head honchos. When it works, it's a great road to commute on and if the cycle lanes were better protected and some tweaks were made in some narrow places it'd be ideal.

Come on Boris, agree with me.

A sad realisation

This morning the rude lady on the MTB was on my route again. This was the lady who called S and I idiots for no reason.

She pedalled away through red lights and junctions, S and I overtook her several times and she undertook me so close she hit me with her foot without noticing at a red light when I had stopped.

Then we reached a four-way junction. She mounted the pavement weaved left, decided to cycle across the pedestrian crossing, nearly hitting four people who were crossing it at the time, mounted the pavement the other side before rejoining the road. All this while the light was red and while cars were attempting to go through the junction while she was in the way. She saved a grand total of about one minute and S and I soon caught up.

To my surprise S lent over and gave her a hearty 'Have a great morning!' When woman asked why S pointed out that she and I were being gifted great amusement by her antics. Rude woman got quite shirty at this and sped off.

It was quite funny in a way but what made me sad was that sooner or later this woman will cause an accident and either she, or a pedestrian she hits or both will get hurt. Many cyclists skip red lights and although it's not something I do, many of them are at least aware of the traffic around them and adjust for it, this woman is completely self-absorbed. Unaware of the dangers she's putting herself and others in, it's only a matter of time before she comes acropper.

I shall, in future endeavor to stay out of her way, she's young, very pretty and probably has much to live for, watching her risk it all is just too sad.

Yaaaaawn!

Apologies for the late post but I am KNACKERED. Poor Mr Weenie had a bizarre night as he was so gripped by a nightmare that he woke me up by attempting to push me off the bed, gripping my arm when I asked what he was doing, attempting to leave the room via the wardrobe, then near running out of the bedroom door, coming to his senses only when he reached the bathroom and wondered what on earth he was doing in there.

As a consequence I'm bushed.

It doesn't help that I was out with my sisters last night too. Reg came with me to the pub though and it took me about 10 minutes to get home, bliss.

S and I met up at the usual time after last week's drama. We were understandably apprehensive. The bike shop couldn't find any problems despite her frequent inner tube splits so had concluded that my theory was correct and had retaped the inside of the wheel to protect the inner tubes from the spokes. After a test ride on Sunday had been successful we decided to go into work.

I had reasoned that the drama had lessened S's confidence a little so when we hit the road after the Chiswick Roundabout I carefully monitored my speed and let her take the lead. Oops. I was so busy checking my speedometer that I hadn't noticed she'd nipped off into the distance. I pedalled quickly to catch up only for her to nip off again. She was steaming ahead. She took lanes, overtook a Pashley, saw off an aggressive 4x4 and, as a result we got to Hammersmith Broadway at 8.45am. We were locking up our bikes by 8.55am.

When we first came all the way in we were locking up at 9.15am, that's a hell of a difference and means S has managed to achieve her goal of beating public transport for commuting time. We're already planning some longer routes home when she's built her confidence and strength back up. I was starting to wonder if we'd ever get over the bike problems and I'm pleased the bike shop saw sense, they even agreed to do the repairs for free.

At least for me, the nightmares are over.

The bounce has gone from my bungee

Anyone seen my bounce?

It probably doesn't help that I was late home last night. At long last we've discovered why S has had four flats in two rides. Unfortunately I had already repaired one split and was halfway through pumping the tyre back up when PSSSSSST!

A second split had occurred exactly one spokes width further up the tube.The spokes are poking up through the rim tape and piercing the inner tube. As a consequence we had to walk all the way to Chiswick to tell Evans and get them to solve the problem. We should hear later today whether they agree with the theory but the guy last night agreed it was the most plausible explanation.

I got home at 8pm and tidied, our flat's still a bombsite after the move. My darling moomin brought us delicious lasagne 'I was just making some and thought you might like some', confirming that she is the top moomin of all time, then I collapsed into bed, waking at 4am with backache and then sleeping upright on the sofa with an excited Mr Handsome purring happily on my lap.

The result of all this is that I'm knackered and when an older gentleman on an ancient tourer whizzed past me this morning I barely noticed. To paraphrase the great Wallace of Gromit fame, the bounce has most definitely gone from this bungee.

DRENCHED

I'm sure I am one of a plethora of cyclists who got totally pissed on on Tuesday night but I'm probably nt alone in feeling like it was my very own rite of passage/personal hell.

I have been totally drenched unexpectedly less than five times in my cycling career but Tuesday rates number one for wet, cold, bad visibility, and awful traffic.

As the minutes ticked by in the afternoon, the comments to me and the other cyclist on my floor became less giggly and more pitying. We sat, waiting for it to ease up, but it never did. As I was dad-sitting that night I got ready and prepared to leave, tying Tesco bags round my feet in a vague attempt to keep them warm, if not dry.

As I neared Ealing the rain got heavier and the puddles were getting to around a foot in depth near the kerb. I avoided as many as was safely possible but my feet were dipping in and out of the water as I pedalled in places. Other cyclists dressed in dark colours jumped red lights and left their lights off in what I can only conclude were attempts at suicide. I couldn't see them so I know that drivers certainly couldn't.

I took the middle of the lane, I wore my high-vis yellow jacket and I had my lights on but I took nothing for granted. Visibility was VERY low and I just assumed I was invisible and acted accordingly. Sirens all around me gave me the impression that not everyone was being so careful.

I got to the fish and chip shop drenched and got our supper before packing it into my thankfully waterproof panniers and taking it to dad.

Reg was stowed in my parents' hallway with newspaper all over the place to protect the floor and I shivered in soaking wet clothes as I tucked into steaming hot fish and chips.

My mum arrived home at around 8.30pm, stormed in and said with conviction: 'You are NOT cycling home.' I was off yesterday anyway so I allowed myself to be driven home and I cycled Reg home in the blazing sunshine yesterday.

I almost think every cyclist who got home on Tuesday night deserves a medal, but those selfish enough to whizz around in dark clothing and no lights dramatically increased their odds of not getting home at all, so deserve nothing. I can only hope they'll think twice about it next time.