Whatever that means
It wasn’t so much the light soaking on Thursday and the need to sit on my head-mopping towel in the car to protect it from my wet arse. It was more the promise of a thorough going soaking this Tuesday (90% chance of rain and over 3 inches throughout the day) that I headed for Evans (in the, ahem, cough, Braehead area but not actually in the offending shopping centre, no, in the one next door with all the outdoors places). Actually, I wasn’t going to Evans for mudguards, I was going to look at new bikes. You see, the company cycle to work scam scheme is open for business and much as I think it’s scandalous that tax money is being used to add a fifth bike to my stable at a 40% discount, I think it would be stupid to not take the money. So I had a look and saw a potentially good one but I’m not sure. I’m covered for mountains, tours and single speeds. What I really should get is a proper road bike rather than a cross bike but I feel the need for something substantial, something designed to take a bit of punishment whereas road bikes just look so fragile, ready to fold under any ample weight.
The rest of the day was spent visiting the remaining parent and finding him well, visiting a non-parent, spreading sight of the weans so other photo opportunities weren’t there. And since I couldn’t take a photo of a bike I haven’t got, I went for the mudguards. I’m not sure their funny felt bits will work too well. And there’s all too little clearance around the wheels, especially the front. But the single speed is now my official commuter bike.
I’m listening to Joe Jackson but I got a link to a mate’s band today. And very good it is too.