VecchioJo's blog

Strange things seen on a ride.

#1 - Lingertree

But not forgotten.

Never Valentines Day any more but the anniversary of your death. Was it really 5 years ago I burst into tears when I heard the news getting home from a race?

You were a hero to me, you still are, despite, and because of, your faults.

Grazie Marco, may your good lord take the time.

I have a new bike.

It started with a scrap of paper full of sketches and scribbles and ideas for a new frame, with some nice colouring in. I took this scrawl to the pub to meet my friendly local frame-builder and over a few pints we talked about this and that while he translated my random jottings into meaningful numbers and he promised alchemy to turn them into something lovely.

Some while later my frame turned up.

Before I've even turned a pedal on the thing this bike seems to be laden with what could be called "Soul".

Stop, look left, look right, look left again.

You never know where it's going to come from.

Ground Control To Major Jake.
Your top-tube's dead,
there's something wrong.
Can you hear me, Major Jake?
Can you hear me, Major Jake?
Can you hear me, Major Jake?
Can you....

As a result of the altercation a few weeks ago, the Major Jake cyclo-cross bike has a hefty dent in the top-tube, of the kind that isn't too beneficial for aluminium. It's time to say goodbye.

Now, I appreciate the gesture, but if you're going to follow me any longer finding it impossible to overtake on this wide country road in your you-don't-know-how-wide-it-is-do-you MPV (here's a tip - 2nd gear) can you at least hire a Spanish directeur sportif to lean out the window and scream "Venga! Venga!! Venga!!!" at me.

Thanks.

If you told her that the first time you met your new partner she was totally naked.

Friday afternoon fast busy roads, last 30 miles home against a belligerent headwind, and straight into a low winter Killing Sun.
One way or other I could just die.

Nothing for it but to put the Jens Voigt face on and bury self towing an imaginary team along. I am strong, I am super-domestique, I am a peleton crushing tempo, I am pulling them along like a train, I shall destroy myself for the good of The Team.
Gnnn.

Right then, we've got a truck load, literally, of bikes from this team we sponsored last year that we don't like to talk about, but as things are a bit tight right now we can't afford to respray them so if we could come up with a team strip that's kind of mostly white and yellow to match that would be great, and to keep design costs down my cousin does art...

7 picking at roadkill.
One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, five for silver, six for gold, seven for secret training, never to be told