Yooooonneeeeemaaaaaan rides again

On Sunday morning, the clocks went forwards to British Summer Time, so
now it's light in the evenings until quite late...

Monday: it's been a lousy day... a fire at Manchester has mysteriously
sent our computers down in Nottingham... a member of my team "forgot" to
put his alarm clock forward and arrived an hour and (mysteriously)
twenty minutes late...

So as soon as I get home, it's out with the Coker, and off to my usual
starting place. After a hard ride on the MUni yesterday, tonight's ride
will just be a gentle stroll, right?

The light evening has brought out all the kids for miles around and they
are gibbering around the half pipes like so many baboons. I hate this
bit: first freemount of the day, on the Coker, and an audience of bored
and inarticulate kids. Fortunately I mount first time. Fortunately?
Nah, that's skill and dedicated practice - honestly!

As I ride past, the kids wittily remark, "Naahaahaahaahaahaahaa!" and I
cannot find a convincing counter-argument. One, brighter than his
peers, and obviously destined for great things, repeatedly shouts,
"Uniman! Yooneeemaaaan! Yoooooneeeeeeeemaaaaaaan!"

I turn across the field towards the Water Sports Centre. I love this
bit because every time I do it, I can hear the kids' tone changing as
they suddenly realise I'm actually quite a serious rider. Presumably
they haven't yet twigged that I'm (probably) the only rider they ever
see, and if I did it last time, I can do it again.

As I ride along the river bank, a bicyclist on a mountain-style bike
overtakes and comments, "There must be an easier way." He continues
along the flat compacted grit path, and I divert onto the rutted muddy
single track. I think he misses the irony.

I arrive at the Water Sports Centre without incident, and turn off the
tarmac entrance road onto the footpath. The path appears to have been
re-ballasted and raked, so it's a bit tricky... but not as tricky as the
next obstacle: two rowers carrying a twin scull. They look like they've
never carried one before, and when they see me, they take it in turns to
move first to the right and then to the left, so that the boat see-saws
horizontally across my route. I can see a scene from a black and white
silent film developing here... I slow down, hit some loose ballast and
UPD.

I had had a vague idea to do a 20 mile ride without dismounting. With
this in mind, I check my computer (1.57 miles) and reset it to zero. I
push the uni past the boat and then remount and ride up the short and
tricky zigzag path, predictable but good natured comments wafting after
me on the breeze.

From here, it's a standard route across the tops of the grassy hillocks,
but I add an extra hill, and I'm pleased to make it all the way up in
one. Then I follow the tarmac track around the lake, diverting to cross
a narrow footbridge near the end. Back on the tarmac, I am greeted with
surprise by a group of joggers. Has anyone ever invented a less
leisurely or enjoyable leisure activity than jogging? Joggers always
look like they resent every step.

I turn along a narrow path beside one of the side lakes, make it up the
tricky little slope at the end, then race up the tarmac slope before
turning onto the World's Worst Grassy Slope.

The WWGS is rutted and potholded with fossilised wheel ruts and hoof
prints, all concealed beneath about 6 inches of stubbly grass. It's
er... challenging. I make it to the top, then swoop down into the
little hollow before the next slope. At the last moment, I notice that
the hoofprints suddenly become very visible and rather deep... there is
a boggy bit at the bottom. Just in time, I adjust my speed and make it
through. I've worked hard enough now (I'm 41, you know...) and I turn
towards the tarmac again.

Back round by the canoe slalom course, I approach the tricky bridge
carefully. It shouldn't be tricky - just a slight step up from grit to
concrete, then a slatted timber arch - but I'm always suspicious of that
little step. I make it, I relax, I look ahead to plan my route, become
complacent, veer too close to the bridge handrail, and, without
thinking, reach out with my left hand to steady myself. With hard
plastic wristguards, my hand fails to grip (just as well) but in a
moment of stupidity, I stop pedalling.

On a Coker, a sudden involuntary cessation of the pedalling action
typically precedes disaster. This time is no exception, and I UPD
loudly. (Ever dropped a Coker on a wooden bridge?)

This time it is 4.04 miles since I mounted, so I've done a total of 5.61
miles. Clearly it would be daft to reset the trip counter and have a
third attmept at the 20 miles. At least this takes some of the pressure
off, and I'm now free to try some more difficult stuff, including a
tricky climb and a steep diagonal descent, raucously encouraged by a
couple of canoeists on the course below.

Following familiar paths I make it back to the river side, then turn
across the field along a straight stretch of single track. I have half
a mind to ride the Very Difficult Path.

The VDP runs across the top of the field. It zig zags a bit, and has
some slight ups and downs. I remember it as Very Difficult because the
first few times I rode it, there were tall nettles to both sides, and
long grass concealing the ruts and potholes. At this time of year,
these hazards are absent, but there's a new and unforeseen one: a dog
walker, with his dog. It's a mongrel border collie sort of thing, and
when it turns to watch me, I notice that, most undoglike, it has clear
blue eyes which glow a little disturbingly in the fading light. For a
moment, I feel like an extra in a budget sequel to American Werewolf in
London, but I ride past without incident.

The VDP takes me back past the skaters' pipes, and I'm once again
greeted with cries of "Yoooooneeeeeeeemaaaaaaaaaaaan!" I head back
towards the river and up past the football ground, over the suspension
bridge ( a bicyclist who has passed me twice pauses to stare, but can
think of nothing to say ) then I ride up the river bank to the next
bridge.

As I cross this bridge, I notice a group of bored kids with bicycles,
waiting to hurl abuse. That's all I need: I'm tired, I'm about 3 miles
form the car... they outnumber me, and my superior grasp of the
language, my ability to Morris dance, and my liberal values can't help
me now. They start to shout, but their comments have not yet
crystallised into either outright abuse or approbation. I seize the
moment, ride up onto the rough track along the top of the flood bank
and, as one of them says, "Wow look... is he going to ride down that
hill?" I take my pride in my hands and swoop down the side of the
floodbank to cheers and encouragement.

Now I'm in unfamiliar territory, and I can't stop, so I put the hammer
down until I get to the end of the track, where I'm confronted by, of
course, the steep inner slope of the floodbank. I make a valiant
attempt to ride u the bank, diagonally, and nearly make it. Nearly,
means the third UPD of the ride.

From here, I do a bit of exploring. Between the flood bank and the
river are a few acres of scrubby land with all sorts of interesting
paths and bumps. There are also burned out motor scooters (mine was
burned out last week ( ) and I wonder what it is that makes people
so destructive.

The next group of kids consists of about 6 lads and a couple of girls
getting gently drunk on about two bottles of beer. As I ride past, they
applaud. I wave.

Almost back to the car now. I'm starting to notice the seat. A pass a
small family group: dad, son, and grandma in her wheelchair. Son asks,
"Are there any brakes on that?" I reply, "Yes, when my head hits the
floor, I stop."

He laughs, and there's something in his tone which convinces me it was a
serious question. I turn back and stop for a chat. He seems genuinely
interested, but can only think of the one question, so he repeats it in
slightly different formats. As I prepare to remount, he wishes me well,
and, thankfully, I don't miss the mount.

A few minutes later, to familiar cries of
"Yooooooneeeeeeeeeeemaaaaaaaaaan!" I arrive back at the car.

Coker with 150 mm cranks.
13.09 miles. 21.06 km
Top recorded speed, 16mph. 25.6 kmh.


--
Mikefule - Roland Hope School of Unicycling

So many pedestrians tell me I've lost a wheel.
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As I ride past, the kids wittily remark, "Naahaahaahaahaahaahaa!" and
I cannot find a convincing counter-argument. One, brighter than his
peers, and obviously destined for great things, repeatedly shouts,
"Uniman! Yooneeemaaaan! Yoooooneeeeeeeemaaaaaaan!"


I'm still chuckling, thanks for another great story, Mike!


--
gbarnes - www.gb4mfg.com

George C. Barnes IV
GB4 Manufacturing, L.L.C.
http://www.gb4mfg.com/
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Mikefule wrote:
*"Are there any brakes on that?" I reply, "Yes, when my head hits the
floor, I stop." *



BTW: Ever notice how when you learn word you've never heard before, then
it shows up again? Well, a new record has been set thanks to the fule.
Not 20 minutes ago I finished our morning paper's crossword puzzle. In
it, I struggled to complete the compound word "Morris Dance", never
before having heard it. Then, there it is, for the 2nd time in my 45
years just 20 minutes later...

weird


--
Memphis Mud - Student of GrandMaster 2T

Mantra: Avoid Hitting Tailbone...Avoid Hitting Tailbone...

"do not think, just ride"...muniracer
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I remember talk in the old days that athletes would "Carbo Load" before
their competition.

Do you shy from Carbs in training to keep your weight down. And then,
the day before the big event, eat a big plate of Pasta and bread, etc?

We will be running 3 miles, MUni 6.5 miles, running 1 mile. I've done
sections of this collection of abuses and I'm afraid that I'm going to
run out of steam. If this event were later in the summer, I'd be in
better shape, but we're just coming out of winter. Winteritis is a
killer.

I've never tried them in competition, but do you who know advise using
those gel energy packs? A long time ago, a friend let me try one, it
tasted horrible. Are there "good" ones?

Again, don't tell Tommy.


--
Memphis Mud - Student of GrandMaster 2T

Mantra: Avoid Hitting Tailbone...Avoid Hitting Tailbone...

"do not think, just ride"...muniracer
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Mikefule wrote:
*"There must be an easier way." *
Yes, but not a simpler way.






Thanks for another great write-up. These must be compiled and sold one
day. With some good photos it would make a great coffee-table book.


--
UniBrier - Its Time to Ride

Steve De Cuckoo

The Roadrunner or Ground Cuckoo can run at speeds of up to 15 miles per
hour (24 km per hour). It rarely flies and does not migrate. When it is
in danger, it runs or crouches to hide.

The RoadUnier or Cuckoo Cokier can ride at speeds of up to 15 miles per
hour (24 km per hour). It rarely flies and does not migrate. When it is
in danger it UPDs and slides.

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Your only 5 hours ahead of us, and you get to go to daylight savings
time an entire week before us! Someone in the US dropped the ball!
Just one more week, I can't wait.


--
bugman - Professional Assasin

forget_your_life wrote:
*dude i like your video's and think that your most likely a cool guy
in person but why do you have to be such a jack-ass online? *

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Whenever I hear shouts I raise my arms like a Circus performer, I rarely
hear any abuse worse than 'wheres your other wheel?'.
Thanks
again,


carjug


--
carjug
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