We’re all doomed..

IMG_0928, originally uploaded by Alex Leigh.

.. in the words of Private Godfrey of Dad’s Army fame. Were we the only family who used to watch that back in the 80’s and play the “he’s dead”, “he’s definitely dead”, “are you sure he is dead?” during the title sequence?

Anyway, after Andy’s lament over soon to be muddy trails, I thought I’d cheer us all up with this picture of a typical Chiltern scene come about October.

A number of options present themselves at this point:

1. Don’t ride in winter and get fat.
2. Ride in winter and pretend you’re enjoying it
3. Do something else instead like extreme DIY or bog snorkelling
4. Move to somewhere sunny and dry.

4 is a fantasy, 3 is unlikely, 2 has proven to be beyond my mental capacity for suffering this last few years so it looks like 1 then.

I shall dust off the bigger trousers in readiness.

5 thoughts on “We’re all doomed..”

  1. To be pedantic (just for a change ;-P)

    Wasn’t that Private Frazer’s catchphrase?

    Mud is why we are allowed singlespeeds.

  2. 5. Ride in Winter, enjoy the frosty hard packed trails drier and faster than they ever will be on the sunniest summer day, the lack of folk out to get in way. Ride in Winter, in the dark with a thousand stars for company on a clear night, with just the sound of your riding buddy’s breathing to break the silence. Ride in Winter, giggle at the handling in the knee deep mud, silently knowing that come spring you’ll have 3 months head start on the lazy feckers, and you’ll be flying. Ride in Winter for an excuse to buy loads of technical gear, smug in the knowledge that whilst you’re earning your pint in the warm pub, they’re getting fat in front of the sanity assassin. Ride in Winter..earn your time in shorts and sunshine, watching the seasons change before your eyes.

    Ride in Winter, it’s good for the soul

  3. You almost convinced me there for a second. And “Sanity Assassin” is inspired. I even found myself considering a bid on a 2nd hand singlespeed today.

    But for every crisp, dry night there are a million slogathons, knowing stares from those who know why the washing machine is borked, a litany of broken components and the total wrongness of pedalling downhill.

    Almost poetic tho Nick. You want to be careful, we don’t aspire to that level of literacy on here 😉

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