I came to the realisation this afternoon that I'm maybe not as energetic as I once was, or perhaps should be now. Because, basically, I'd planned on going for a bike ride this afternoon, and then decided against it because it looked a tad breezy out.
Let me say that again: it looked a tad breezy.
Before I moved out from Sparky Ma and Pa's I got into the habit of going out on my bike every Sunday morning at about 8:30 for a couple of hours. And I mean every Sunday morning. Come rain or shine I was out on my bike; hardcore, you know the score. In fact, the most fun I ever had on a bike ride was one day when it literally chucked it down about 30 seconds after I left home. I did think about turning back because I was only at the top of the road, but by that time I was soaked through anyway, so I just carried on. The real fun came when I got to the path that runs alongside the Thames. It's a dirt track you see, and had turned to a mud bath, so I had the choice between cycling really slowly in the hope that none flicked up and taking about five hours to cycle two miles, or go hell for leather and get caked.
I got caked.
I remember getting home and literally getting into the shower fully clothed. The only downside was that I had to wash the bike too (I decided against taking it into the shower with me).
Anyway, that memory flashed through my mind this afternoon as I looked at the gentle breeze. And by god, I realised, I was not going to let a breeze put me off. So I got ready, and went out! It was awesome, apart from the fact that some chavvy kid actually tried to spit on me at one point; he missed, but if he'd gotten me I would totally have flattened him.
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I've pondered long and hard about whether to post about this or not, but last Monday something bizarre happened. I was driving home and decided to flick through a couple of radio stations. A new one's started recently - Smooth FM - which seems to be OK. The thing is, they were playing 'Cherish' by Madonna, and it was there, at 70 mph on the M4, that I realised I knew every word to it.
I am not proud of that fact. Please forgive me.
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7 comments:
Everyone, everywhere should all know the words to cherish. It should be the law.
I think someone's on the turn...
* grins evilly *
T-Bird - Um, yeah, right… Somehow I don't think that's going to be part of my mayoral campaign.
Inexplicable Device - Ha ha! In my defense, I am a child of the eighties! You couldn't escape the wench back then!!
I also know all the words to Sympathy for the Devil.
I had an 'Express Yourself' moment a while back whilst steaming down the M40 in the summer, a truly embarassing point in my life.
Crumbs. Did you 'express yourself'?
Could've been worse, mind; could've been 'Dear Jesse'...
"Pink elephants and lemonade, dear jes-" BLAST!
There are songs like that I never knew I knew the words to, and yet when they come on, the words come out of me like I'm speaking in tongues. Strange what dark secrets the mind can hold, isn't it?
That would be funny if you had taken the bike into the shower with you, and then later your mom seeing bike tracks on the tub floor without an explanation.
Bizarre isn't it? I recently discovered that I knew far too much Bon Jovi as well, but we won't go into that.
I don't think Sparky Ma would've seen the funny side if I'd cycled into the shower... Well, she might've after making me live in the garden for a week or so!!
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