The Wonderfull adventures Of Ernesto Colnago

With apologies to Thomas the Tank Engine -

Once upon a time there was a shiny Colnago called Ernesto, he was very proud
of his high grade titanium 6/4 frame, Carbon fibre stays and lush Campag
Chorus groupset and after spending all winter in the garage, he was keen to
meet up with other bicycles.
So one fine, sunny spring morning he dragged the fat cyclist out of his bed,
Ernesto refused to listen to the fat cyclists complaints about too much red
wine.
'Come on' sang Ernesto, in his strange Italian Gallovidian brogue, 'I want
to ride the Moniave Wild Hills Road Race'. So with much grumbling from the
fat cyclist, and even more from the fat cyclist's wife, Ernesto leapt onto
the cars roof rack and they were away to the races!

At the start, Ernesto chatted to the other bikes whilst the fat cyclist
tried to blag a decent start from the race controller. Ernesto chatted away
in Italian to some nice De Rosa's and Bianchi's - he couldn't understand
the strange far eastern jabbering on the strange alu bikes with the dodgy
Japanese groupsets, but no matter, Ernesto was proud of his heritage and was
grateful that the fat cyclist refused to buy faceless s**t

At last they set off in the 4th group and Ernesto had lots of fun
straightaway, swooping around with the other bikes in his group although he
couldn't work out the fascination the other bikes had with his bottom- why
do they spend so much time looking at my behind Ernesto wondered?. Soon,
with the sun warming up, the fat cyclist called to Ernesto to go faster and
Ernesto spent more and more time at the front, sometimes, Ernesto got too
carried away and found himself in front with a lead. Being a nice bicycle he
decided each time to slow up and wait for the others until at least they
reached halfway. Besides, he knew the fat cyclist didn't like riding into
headwinds on his own and liked to have other fat cyclists to help him.
Into Casphairn and Ernesto waved to big Dougie who was kindly intimidating
the nasty cars at a dangerous junction. The wide, mostly smooth road began
to rise up and Ernesto decided to make the fat cyclist sweat a wee bit and
so Ernesto clicked down a few gears and sped up the drag. Soon, Ernesto was
on his own, but looking behind him he saw another bike chasing after him,
the chasing bike had a Glasgow Nightingale jersey on, Ernesto had never
heard of birds or any kind of wild life surviving in Glasgow so he slightly
slowed down to get a closer look. When the other bicycle joined up, Ernesto
cried, ' come on! big licks downhill to Dalry'
Soon they caught they caught the next group and sped to the front. Another
bicycle sometimes came up to give some help, but again all the other bikes
became fascinated with Ernesto's rear end, 'must be my fine carbon fibre
wishbone stays' thought Ernesto. After a few miles however, Ernesto got
frustrated with his bottom being stared at and so took off on his own.
Sadly, some slow cyclists up ahead were holding up a line of cars and
Ernesto, although he was Italian, knew that in the UK, you dont undertake
convoys of cars on winding roads and so he slowed down. The other bicycles
caught up with Ernesto but then they turned up the steep hill into Dalry.

Ernesto refused to listen to the pathetic protests from the fat cyclist and
went up the hill really fast, he knew he was going fast because when he
looked at his computer, he saw he was making the fat cyclists heart rate hit
97% - the fat cyclist had never seen this before and nearly vomited all over
Ernestos artisan art deco paint work.

Still, Ernesto did his work well, and glancing back, it looked like a
grenade had gone off with all the other bicycles zig zaging across the road.
Dancing up the hill, Ernesto picked up the dropped bicycles from the lead
group. All this time Ernesto was followed by a bicycle that came from
Dumfries, his poor pedigree showed because when Ernesto waved him through to
take a turn, it panted ' a cannae' and stuck tightly to Ernestos wheel. No
matter thought Ernesto, there are some more hills coming up.
The sun was getting warmer and making the fat cyclist sweat like a fat pig
but soon they saw the front group ahead. Ernesto began to grind his way up
the hill having finally dropped the other bicycle for good. Ernesto didn't
like this hill because it made the fat cyclist say rude words, things that
Ernesto knew, simply weren't physically possible to do to a road.

Ernesto caught the front three bicycles and decided to have a wee breather.
As the road began to yet again go up, Ernesto took to the front, and because
the other bicycles had been in front longer than Ernesto, they couldn't
follow and despite all the odds, Ernesto was in front, on his own, with
about 13 miles, one major hill, a slight cross wind that sometimes became a
headwind, just him, the fat cyclist (who by now was feeling sick) and the
very nice car with a big flashing light that warned the other cars he was
coming.

Because Ernesto liked his own company, he went up the last hill in the big
ring, the fat cyclist didn't really like this and muttered something about
'buggered knees'. Ernesto ignored this and forced the Fat cyclist to push
big gears on the rolling run into Moniave. Towards the end Ernesto started
to get worried, the fat cyclists fat feet seemed to be slowing the pedals
down. 'Come on', urged Ernesto, ' not far to go now'. After what seemed like
a lifetime, Ernesto solo'd across the finish line. Big Dougie was there
looking pleased. The fat cyclist had time to freewheel and get his breath
back and wheel back to the finish to watch a tremendous bunch sprint and
was delighted to see another Italian bike, called Fausto Coppi win the
sprint.

Ernesto joined the other bikes back at the pub that served as race HQ,
Ernesto reckoned he weighed about 17 pounds, this was about the weight of
free sandwiches the fat cyclist ate which the race controller kindly put on.

The race controller said something about Moniave Wild Hills Road Race, TLI
and Fiberforce Tour of Scotland but Ernesto didn't really hear this, he was
looking at the shiny trophy the Fat Cyclist was holding and wondered how
much Lieffe Blonde beer would be put in it tonight.

On Sat, 29 Apr 2006 23:13:56 +0100, Andrew wrote:

With apologies to Thomas the Tank Engine -
snip - Tale of glorious victory... do Italian bikes really use the word
"wee"?

Congratulations Ernesto (And the bloke you carried all that way!).

Jon

in message , Andrew
') wrote:

With apologies to Thomas the Tank Engine -

Once upon a time there was a shiny Colnago called Ernesto, he was very
proud of his high grade titanium 6/4 frame, Carbon fibre stays and lush
Campag Chorus groupset and after spending all winter in the garage, he
was keen to meet up with other bicycles.
So one fine, sunny spring morning he dragged the fat cyclist out of his
bed, Ernesto refused to listen to the fat cyclists complaints about too
much red wine.
'Come on' sang Ernesto, in his strange Italian Gallovidian brogue, 'I
want to ride the Moniave Wild Hills Road Race'. So with much grumbling
from the fat cyclist, and even more from the fat cyclist's wife,
Ernesto leapt onto the cars roof rack and they were away to the races!

Wonderful, Andrew. But whom, pray, is this anonymous Fat Cyclist?

Congratulate Ernesto for me, would you?

--
(Simon Brooke) http://www.jasmine.org.uk/~simon/

For office use only. Please do not write or type below this line.

"Simon Brooke" wrote in message
...

snipped

Wonderful, Andrew. But whom, pray, is this anonymous Fat Cyclist?


The answer - or as close as you will get to it - can be found he

http://www.scottish-tli.com/6202.html

Well done Fat Cyclist btw.

Tom.

in message , Tom Orr
') wrote:


"Simon Brooke" wrote in message
...

snipped

Wonderful, Andrew. But whom, pray, is this anonymous Fat Cyclist?

The answer - or as close as you will get to it - can be found he

http://www.scottish-tli.com/6202.html

Well done Fat Cyclist btw.

That's it, Andrew my boy, you're outed!

More photos here
URL:http://spaces.msn.com/dumfriescc/photos/

--
(Simon Brooke) http://www.jasmine.org.uk/~simon/

;; killing [afghan|iraqi] civilians is not 'justice'