Where's Davey's Olyumpic Medal

Cycling is so screwed up these days that Davey's waiting anxiously for his
Olympic Medal, despite the fact that he got a lifetime ban way back in 1956
for grabbing a few measly Roubles on the Grass Track circuit.

But what the Heck, there's some British ******z making noises, backed up,
surprisingly by their Oz ****** counterparts, about a Gong for riderz who
didn't compete in the event for some ridiclulous reason most probably based
upon the endorsement money that can be extracted from Snake Oil manufacturers
and others of their Ilk.

So Davey applies some logic and sez, ``WTF, if they hand out medals on that
basis, anybody who rides a bike is a potential Olympian, even if he only rides
his bike a couple Klicks down to the local Gay bar''

So Davey reasons that his should be in the mail any day now.

Shoot, Cycling is almost finished these days if that Crock of **** gets outta
the starting blocks.

Not only that, the UCI is about to Firk the Giro and Vuelta, both of which,
for a variety of reasons are of greater status than the Tour despite all the
Hoopla surrounding the Tour.

And you have to tape over the Maker's name on your bike at the Follies unless
it meets some criteria, mostly defined on an individual basis by officials
that decide your case based solely on the Quantity and Quality as listed in the
Official rates of Exchange of the BankNotes stuffed into the obligatory
envelope that accompanies the requst for a ruling.

Jeeperz, Davey almost regrets climbing on that borrowed Butcher's Delivery
Bike as youngster almost 60 years ago now and winning the 5 Mile Scratch race
at the Blaydon Miners' Sports Day 10 minutes ahead of the second placed Pro.

Davey had sixpence to spend, a measly few pennies, but it was a princely sum
back then, donated by Davey's god-father, Uncle Ned, who was a bit of a
Promoter himself and always knew what to do with things that ``Fell off a
Truck`` and was a Master at finding homes for things that got Found before
they were Lost.

Anyway, Davey, for some trivial reason that he can't even remember now, got
the idea that it would be a Real Lark to ride in the Bike Race instead of
frittering his money away on Popcorn, Toffee Apples or cheap trinkets.

So he hung onto his Sixpence which was the entry fee, but couldn't borrow a
bike. But Uncle Ned to the Rescue again. Uncle Ned was pretty thick with the
local Butcher. 'Twas something to do with Ration Books and Sides of Beef or
having arranged for the War Damage Compensation Board Inspector to approve
compensation for both of the Butcher's corner lot addresses when hadn't in
fact sustained any damage at all. Whatever, Uncle Ned got a Ten Spot outta the
Butcher upon the promise that Davey would ride the butcher's delivery bike
around the Games so that folks would know that he was in business and that
possibly, just possibly, you might talk the Butcher Man into delivering a
coupla pounds of steak without having to part with your precious Ration
Coupons if you could afford the inflated Black Market prices.

So Davey was in luck, he had a bike, and having paid his Sixpence was duly
listed on the start list and given 20 to 1 odds by the Bookies.

Uncle Ned, always one for the Grand Gesture stepped up just before the start
of the Scatch Race when the Bookies were hollering ``Last Bets'' and sez to
one of the Bookies, loud enough for the whole field to hear, ''Put me a Tenner
on the Nose on the Nipper.'' The ''Nipper'' being Davey and ``On the Nose''
meaning no ****** Win-Place-Show bets with reduced odds, but only to Win.

So Davey plonked his front wheel on his first start line on a sodden field
like a Quagmire since it had been raining all morning and wobbled off when the
starter fired the gun.

And Lady Luck smiled on Davey that Long Ago Saturday afternoon. The Seasoned
Pros all were pretty Beefy gentlemen with Skinny Tired steeds and on the rain
soaked field, they couldn't get traction and were experiencing some pretty
tough sledding. But Davey was light and the Butcher's Bike had tries like a
Landing Craft, enabling Davey to wobble uncertainly around the track whilst
most of the opposition spent more time off the bike than on.

Davey was ecstatic. The Prize was Ten Pounds, immediately appropriated by
Davey's Dad since the Miners were on strike again, despite the threats of the
POS Govenment to send the Troops in (again) and the money was desperately
needed.

But Uncle Ned was ecstatic too. He got 210 Pounds back for his Ten Pound wager
which was more than the average Miner got paid for six months work underground
in those days and he walked around the Fair grounds like a King giving Davey a
Tenner to spend and standing round after round of drinks in the Beer Tent and
making loans to his buddies that were 100% guaranteed never to be repaid. Twas
Easy Come, Easy Go with Uncle Ned.

So Davey bought himself his first bike and has been an avid cyclist ever
since.

But with the current state of Bike Racing, it's highly doubtful that he will
follow the sport much longer.

Maybe the UCI is an institution that has outlived its usefulness.

Who knows. But Bike Racing used to be fun and it sure isn't any more.

--
le Vent a Dos, Davey Crockett
Six Day Site: http://members.rogers.com/sixday/

wrote in message
...

Cycling is so screwed up these days that Davey's waiting anxiously for his
Olympic Medal, despite the fact that he got a lifetime ban way back in
1956
for grabbing a few measly Roubles on the Grass Track circuit.

But what the Heck, there's some British ******z making noises, backed up,
surprisingly by their Oz ****** counterparts, about a Gong for riderz who
didn't compete in the event for some ridiclulous reason most probably
based
upon the endorsement money that can be extracted from Snake Oil
manufacturers
and others of their Ilk.

So Davey applies some logic and sez, ``WTF, if they hand out medals on
that
basis, anybody who rides a bike is a potential Olympian, even if he only
rides
his bike a couple Klicks down to the local Gay bar''

So Davey reasons that his should be in the mail any day now.

Shoot, Cycling is almost finished these days if that Crock of **** gets
outta
the starting blocks.

Not only that, the UCI is about to Firk the Giro and Vuelta, both of
which,
for a variety of reasons are of greater status than the Tour despite all
the
Hoopla surrounding the Tour.

And you have to tape over the Maker's name on your bike at the Follies
unless
it meets some criteria, mostly defined on an individual basis by officials
that decide your case based solely on the Quantity and Quality as listed
in the
Official rates of Exchange of the BankNotes stuffed into the obligatory
envelope that accompanies the requst for a ruling.

Jeeperz, Davey almost regrets climbing on that borrowed Butcher's Delivery
Bike as youngster almost 60 years ago now and winning the 5 Mile Scratch
race
at the Blaydon Miners' Sports Day 10 minutes ahead of the second placed
Pro.

Davey had sixpence to spend, a measly few pennies, but it was a princely
sum
back then, donated by Davey's god-father, Uncle Ned, who was a bit of a
Promoter himself and always knew what to do with things that ``Fell off a
Truck`` and was a Master at finding homes for things that got Found before
they were Lost.

Anyway, Davey, for some trivial reason that he can't even remember now,
got
the idea that it would be a Real Lark to ride in the Bike Race instead of
frittering his money away on Popcorn, Toffee Apples or cheap trinkets.

So he hung onto his Sixpence which was the entry fee, but couldn't borrow
a
bike. But Uncle Ned to the Rescue again. Uncle Ned was pretty thick with
the
local Butcher. 'Twas something to do with Ration Books and Sides of Beef
or
having arranged for the War Damage Compensation Board Inspector to approve
compensation for both of the Butcher's corner lot addresses when hadn't
in
fact sustained any damage at all. Whatever, Uncle Ned got a Ten Spot outta
the
Butcher upon the promise that Davey would ride the butcher's delivery bike
around the Games so that folks would know that he was in business and that
possibly, just possibly, you might talk the Butcher Man into delivering a
coupla pounds of steak without having to part with your precious Ration
Coupons if you could afford the inflated Black Market prices.

So Davey was in luck, he had a bike, and having paid his Sixpence was duly
listed on the start list and given 20 to 1 odds by the Bookies.

Uncle Ned, always one for the Grand Gesture stepped up just before the
start
of the Scatch Race when the Bookies were hollering ``Last Bets'' and sez
to
one of the Bookies, loud enough for the whole field to hear, ''Put me a
Tenner
on the Nose on the Nipper.'' The ''Nipper'' being Davey and ``On the
Nose''
meaning no ****** Win-Place-Show bets with reduced odds, but only to
Win.

So Davey plonked his front wheel on his first start line on a sodden field
like a Quagmire since it had been raining all morning and wobbled off when
the
starter fired the gun.

And Lady Luck smiled on Davey that Long Ago Saturday afternoon. The
Seasoned
Pros all were pretty Beefy gentlemen with Skinny Tired steeds and on the
rain
soaked field, they couldn't get traction and were experiencing some pretty
tough sledding. But Davey was light and the Butcher's Bike had tries like
a
Landing Craft, enabling Davey to wobble uncertainly around the track
whilst
most of the opposition spent more time off the bike than on.

Davey was ecstatic. The Prize was Ten Pounds, immediately appropriated by
Davey's Dad since the Miners were on strike again, despite the threats of
the
POS Govenment to send the Troops in (again) and the money was desperately
needed.

But Uncle Ned was ecstatic too. He got 210 Pounds back for his Ten Pound
wager
which was more than the average Miner got paid for six months work
underground
in those days and he walked around the Fair grounds like a King giving
Davey a
Tenner to spend and standing round after round of drinks in the Beer Tent
and
making loans to his buddies that were 100% guaranteed never to be repaid.
Twas
Easy Come, Easy Go with Uncle Ned.

So Davey bought himself his first bike and has been an avid cyclist ever
since.

But with the current state of Bike Racing, it's highly doubtful that he
will
follow the sport much longer.

Maybe the UCI is an institution that has outlived its usefulness.

Who knows. But Bike Racing used to be fun and it sure isn't any more.

--
le Vent a Dos, Davey Crockett
Six Day Site: http://members.rogers.com/sixday/

Gee Davey, when is your book coming out? Hey, I am still waiting to get
lucky enough to catch some cycling on NBC. The only reason I saw the fastest
Men's TT in history, all of 2 minutes I think is because I just happen to
have the TV on at the right time. Much more lucky then rolling dice. I
haven't been able to match any of the times with what's on DirecTV menu yet.
Everytime it's listed its ignored or moved to another time slot. I think it
possible I might since get lucky with some track finals, wait and see. I
guess that means you are leaving RBR soon too. Hey who says bike racing is
the only fun anyway. When mountain bikes came out here in the U.S. I found a
whole new world apart from the road bike. Since there are so many fire roads
up here, the sky is the limit. Just the opposite of being around people and
cars, other bikes. I like the solitude of riding to the highest peak in the
area near my house, 18 miles away, 7000 feet high and no one in sight for
miles and miles. Just the eagles, bears and an occasional mountain lion.
Leave the world and your troubles behind.

On Tue, 24 Aug 2004 14:14:33 GMT, wrote:


Cycling is so screwed up these days that Davey's waiting anxiously for his
Olympic Medal, despite the fact that he got a lifetime ban way back in 1956
for grabbing a few measly Roubles on the Grass Track circuit.

Jeez, Davey didn't you think about "assuming" a name for the grass?

You'd have been amazed at the number of "Smiths," "Jonses," and
"Whites" riding the Highland Games circuit in the "pro" days.





Regards!
Stephen

Steve McGinty writes:

On Tue, 24 Aug 2004 14:14:33 GMT, wrote:


Cycling is so screwed up these days that Davey's waiting anxiously for his
Olympic Medal, despite the fact that he got a lifetime ban way back in 1956
for grabbing a few measly Roubles on the Grass Track circuit.

Jeez, Davey didn't you think about "assuming" a name for the grass?

You'd have been amazed at the number of "Smiths," "Jonses," and
"Whites" riding the Highland Games circuit in the "pro" days.


It didn't do Kelly any good in South Africa

They said, ``Gee, that John Smith sure looks a lot like Sean Kelly''

--
le Vent a Dos, Davey Crockett
Six Day Site: http://members.rogers.com/sixday/

On Tue, 24 Aug 2004 19:23:37 GMT, wrote:

Steve McGinty writes:

On Tue, 24 Aug 2004 14:14:33 GMT, wrote:


Cycling is so screwed up these days that Davey's waiting anxiously for his
Olympic Medal, despite the fact that he got a lifetime ban way back in 1956
for grabbing a few measly Roubles on the Grass Track circuit.

Jeez, Davey didn't you think about "assuming" a name for the grass?

You'd have been amazed at the number of "Smiths," "Jonses," and
"Whites" riding the Highland Games circuit in the "pro" days.


It didn't do Kelly any good in South Africa

They said, ``Gee, that John Smith sure looks a lot like Sean Kelly''

Forgot about that - some of my club-mates rode with Kelly in that race
(and were banned sin die by the SCU)... what was it called again?

Regards!
Stephen