Sunday, September 03, 2006

Richmond to Windsor 2006: AKA - The Arse, the nipple, and the defective horn ***UPDATED!***

It's bike ride day! Yaaaaaaaay!

Seriously, I look forward to this day every year. The bike ride has become something of a tradition, and it makes me giddy with excitement.

So, with my tyres pumped, my Camalbak bladder sufficiently filled, and my helmet polished, I set off to the rendezvous point where Team Sweatband (formerly known as Team Sparky) had arranged to meet.

I got there a bit early, so I waited a bit. I received a text from Mr Chunt saying "Running a bit late." I replied "bitch."

Then sweatband turned up. Alone. Having made such a big do about recruiting so many people that she'd made me change the name of the team, this struck me as a bit odd. I hope they're not imaginary, I thought. The last thing I wanted to do was spend the day trying to avoid crashing into imaginary cyclists. I was also disappointed that she hadn't brought her cat, who I had suggested we could've put in a basket on the front of her bike like ET.

As it turns out, Team Sweatband had actually fallen apart at the last minute, so I took the initiative and immediately rebranded us as Team Sparky. And when Chunty arrived moments later, we were all set. We departed to the strains of the event compare (who looks amazingly like William Shatner) who noted that "another valiant group of cyclists depart on the inexorable winding path to Windsor."

Hurrah!

I won't go into too much detail about the ride, because basically it's pretty much all cycle, cycle, cycle, stop for a mars bar, cycle, cycle, stop for another mars bar, cycle, bugger, a big hill (that's bugger: a big hill, not bugger the hill), and so on and so forth. Also intersperse in a massive hill, which admittedly has an awesome pay-off when you get to pelt down the other side at warp factor five.

We did the 39 mile route in about three hours, which is within acceptable limits when compared with the last three years, especially when you factor in the following problems we faced en route:

a) Does my bum look big in this? No, because evidently my arse is now constructed completely of bone. It's sore as friggin' hell, despite a super-cool saddle (admittedly not so super cool when a bump in the road rammed it up into my Gentleman's Assets) and two layers of shorts, one of which is padded and no you won't be getting any pictures of me solely in the lycra layer so don't even ask.

b) Sweatband had bought a defective camelbak that wouldn't allow her to suckle any beverage, despite me and Chunty urging her to "bite down and suck." We realised there actually was a genuine problem when she squeezed it and the nipple component shot off into Chunty. Could've taken an eye out.

c) Mr Chunt's air-horn (marina approved for all your boating needs) that he had retro-fitted onto his bike kept dropping off, leading to a various comments such as "my horn's fallen off!" "Don't worry, I've got the horn," and "my horn came off in my hand."

Anyway, when we finished we were welcomed by Shatner, who must've beamed over, informing us that "the fluttering and flexible hands of a masseuse await to rub and relieve those aching muscles." Captain of a starship and king of alliteration - GENIUS!

I didn't partake in a massage, mainly because the last time I had one there the other year the woman nearly snapped me in half. I paid money for her to abuse me - what's that all about?!

Anyway, so we chilled out for an hour, then set off for home. And what did I notice when I got in? I've got stupid tanlines AGAIN. Yes, the battenberg arms have returned, but even worse is where I tanned through the holes in the back of my gloves. It looks like I've been practising my kissing technique on the back of my hand.


More pictures to come when official photographer Chunty emails 'em to me!

*****PHOTO UPDATE*****PHOTO UPDATE*****PHOTO UPDATE*****


We started at the start line, which was at the beginning of the ride. Near the start.


We stopped for a rest at this rest stop. It was actually a car park.


We conquered Butts Hill...


...And traversed Mincing Lane!


Sweatband and I show this season's hot look in cycling chic.


Sparky and Mr Chunt at the end. Crap photography by Sweatband.


Sparky says: Taut: A delicious and refreshing isotonic drink for fitness professionals, sportsman or the family.


SHATNER!


Richmond to Windsor bike ride in aid of Bowel Cancer UK, sponsored by Camel.

10 comments:

Miss T said...

Camelbak just sounds so..... rude.

Nice battenbergs Tim. How did your boobs* fare?

* See how kind I am? Giving you an excuse to type your favourite word again.

Tim said...

And then when you realise the camalbak has a removable bladder (and quite possibly a defective nipple) all sorts of hilarity can ensue!

Boobs! I do not have battenboobs, if that's what you mean!!

Dora and Tina said...

I was going to say something about the lycra shorts, but seeing you said not to ask....

Tim said...

They were concealed beneath baggy shorts. I wouldn't want anyone to have gotten distracted and fallen off, you see...

Mr Chunt said...

On the return journey, Mr Chunt somehow got his large horn wrapped around the front wheel.

The pics have been emailed!

Tim said...

You certainly did. Sounded painful, but Sweatband and I rode on regardless.

The last thing I was going to do was help extricate your horn from your wheel. Oh god... you didn't take a picture of the unholy horn/wheel disaster, did you?

Mr Chunt said...

No I didn't!

Why do I look like I have a pole up me jacksie? Oh yeah, it was the saddle.

Tim said...

Opportunity missed!

Maybe you need to get a new saddle. Or practise your facial expressions?

skillz said...

Sweatband looks pretty cute!

Any particular reason you were riding behind her? ;)

Tim said...

Erm, ladies first?

I'll let her know you said so!!