A Few good Men…..and the fine art of packing…
The club is buzzing these days, members begin to peak as the season kicks of, mt bikers pull high into the hills Orlas tuesday morning running club has taken the “I” out of running, every day picking up new mewmbers.Orla’s lust for life is infectious..Joy tapers down piling into the carbs ( any excuse to eat junk) in preparation for Limerick Marathon this weekend. Lorraine casts a cold eye on her Mt Leinster Challenge, the Carrabutt Gap always getting the better of me. I sit bag packed bike set, waiting…and hoping that some angry baggage handler doesn’t fuck a 12 st suit case in on top of my cornflaked boxed bike….
Theres a fine art to packing. You see I’m not sure what it is, more then likely its years of working in a female dominated profession,soft hands and a house full of assertive women. But the truth is Im shite at driving nails, fixing leaks, starting a chainsaw….Bu down the years I’ve learnt I can pack.
The golden rule is lay out all that you think you might need…and then half it…and if your travelling by bike half it again..And that’s what Ive done, kept it to the bare minimum…..,Knowing dam well that by the time I roll into London, the only thing that will find me attractive is a swarm of bluebottles .
The other thing is , Ive got to haul my saddle sore ass into the 21st Century…I laid out all the techno crap that I thought Id need on my epic cycle, on the bed..Ipod shuffle, Phone, I Reader, SatNav, Camera and a bundle of cables and chargers…All of a sudden it dawns on me, I have to get with the programme..Shaughs is right get an Android (what ever that is) But I certainly need a Blackberry for my next trip…
So here I sit on the eve of Edinburgh-London. Reflecting on Racing 795 and a Few Good Men, who without a second thought step up to the mark. David C who gave the bike the once over, no big deal to him, but to me, a great reassurance,, Mike who Googled a handle bar clip for my satnav, Frank who up Loaded my route too a point where I reckon I can actually cycle my bike to my hotel room on the fourth floor., and Dave F who showed me how to take off pedals..which I did with a bit a brute force and ignorance and a long bar and an allen key….
In 795 I have found an entire circle of new cycling friends. And it doesn’t matter where these friendships go, or, how they develop, wither they fade into the background as my cycling days decline. It doesn’t matter. What matters is now, this moment, these days. How on the eve of my self centred adventure, the boys stepped up, gave me a hand, encouraged me, never asked why, always interested always understanding, always wishing me well…And that is what a real club is all about…..A few good Men, and Women