I returned to the road bike for Friday morning. Something just felt right about this. The Estuary Wilds still insist that it’s late summer and not early autumn. Road bikes are for summer, right?
The windy conditions were incredibly warm albeit windy. There was some debate about whether rowing would take place later in the day.
I opted for a gilet. It was the right decision both in terms of the atmospheric conditions and my aesthetics. I looked cool as fuck with a Brixton Cycles gilet.
The last-minute decision to neck a big fat bowl of porridge was a wise one. I had that Ready Brek glow as I rolled out to see where the road bike would take me.
I opted for the Lawford route. It’s an absolute breeze to get there now, with the new Road to Nowhere being open, but not really open. It throws me out along the Lawford to Manningtree stretch within no time at all.
I was singing along to Edwin Collins, having heard the magnificent Girl Like You shortly before setting off. No one else was around. I say singing, it was more like shouting out the lyrics and grunting that bloody great guitar riff.
The lanes were absolutely empty for Friday morning, all apart from one dickhead van driver who approached me in the opposite direction in the middle of Gawd knows where.
I did slow down and indicated I was going to pull over. The twat didn’t slow down and didn’t even attempt to head slightly to the left of the lane.
Oh dear.
Hey hoe, live to ride, ride to live, and all that bollocks.
