There are two deliberate general knowledge type factual errors in here. PM me if you want to play. Keep quiet if you don’t.
A few days ago, I went out on the 700c and had problems with my knee. I’ve been riding the 700c on 110 mm cranks for a while now but my recent uni rides have all been on a 24 with 165s. I decided that perhaps the extra pressure of controlling the larger wheel on shorter cranks was the problem, so I have put some 125s on. I thought I needed to get back into riding the 700c smoothly before trying short cranks again.
So, Friday, a long hot day at work in an office with air conditioning that hasn’t worked since 1981, and I need some fresh air in the evening.
It takes a while to get motivated. The sun is still high, the air is still warm. I need to apply sun cream. I go for shorts, not leggings, and I decide not to take my Camelbak. I only plan a short ride, and I can do without the sweaty patch on my back.
I arrive at the Water Sports Centre car park, take out the uni, the GPS and my helmet and wristguards.
Hmmm. I had removed the wrist strap extension on the GPS. With the extension, it was just too long; without it, it won’t go round my wrist guard. I need to ride without, and that makes me nervous because I have tendonitis in my right wrist and need to protect it.
Hmmmm… and my shorts have no pockets… and I have no Camelbak… so exactly where am I going to put the car keys? D’oh! A search of the car reveals a few odds and ends of Morris costume, and I snaffle a red and green ribbon, thread that throught the key and wear it around my neck. Gangsta cool. Or something.
I freemount, and ride across the car park. How will the 125s feel? Last time I rode it on 125s, it was dreadfully slow, but I think I’m a better rider now, and can spin more quickly. It certainly doesn’t seem too slow, and the GPS is showing speeds around 10 mph (16 kph).
Across the ballast path, and up the slight hill. Already I feel like I have more balance in reserve than I did on the 110s, and instead of riding down to the lakeside, I turn onto the mown grass and set off up the hill. This used to be part of my regular Coker route, and usually the ground was soft and yielding. A few days of heatwave have baked it hard. the grass has been cut so short it looks like designer stubble, and it is so dry it feels slightly crunchy under the wheel.
To my right is the rowing course, sparkling in the sun. To my left is a more natural looking, but equally artificial lake, with a few canoeists practising. Ahead of me, lying on the grass is a man with his shirt off. He won’t get sunburned because on top of him is a rather buxom lady, also with her shirt off, and nothing to cover her modesty except the man’s hands. They are undisturbed as I ride past. I toy with the idea of riding close enough to surprise them in the hope that the lady sits up in Barbara Windsor-style shock, but that would be wicked, and unicyclists should never be wicked.
On up to the crest of the hill, then down the slope and along the slight ridge to the last grassy hump, where I turn left and drop down a short steep slope onto an area of rough grass. All of this is basic stuff for me on the Coker, but I know I wouldn’t have tried it on the 700c on 110s. On 125s, with dry ground, this uni already feels like a great cross country machine. The tyre is skinny and hard (it’s a road bike training tyre) and there is no smoothing of the bumps like I’d get on a 29er, and the wheel has little momentum. On the other hand, it’s light and responsive, accelerates and slows down easily, and steers brilliantly.
I turn onto a path, then up the steepish winding stone and gravel path, where one misplaced stone could be enough to trip me. I make it to the top and I ride to the edge so that I’m on the skyline, looking down onto the canoe slalom course. Then I take a steeper descent than usual, and swoop up the next little grassy hill, ride past a young woman who is lying in the sun reading, and who doesn’t even notice me passing. At the bottom of this hill is a path I need to cross, and a bicyclist stops rather unnecessarily, and smiles encouragingly as I ride across in front of him.
I ride along a low grassy bank with the bottom section of the canoe slalom course immediately to my left, and the rowing lake a few yards to my right. At the end of this bank, I drop down onto the tarmac road that runs round the rowing lake.
I see a skein of Canada geese flying towards me in > formation. It is a specatacular sight as the geese in the front of the > land in the water first, and those behind land ahead of them, so that the formation changes from > to < with almost mathematical precision.
I see a bicyclist coming towards me. Something in me wants to avoid conversation, however brief, and I turn left up a short but very difficult hill, where longer grass conceals the bumps and ridges in the path. I have done this hill before on 110s but it was a struggle, and the grass was shorter then, so I’m pleased when I make it to the top. There is a half-concealed entrance between trees which leads to a secret path that goes down then steeply up to a crest. The descent is then short and quite steep, but I am feeling really confident now and enjoy the feeling of smooth control as I ride down and turn right onto a wide path of lush deep grass.
This next section is always slightly tricky, even on the Coker, because the hill goes up, down, up, and down, with several little dips and concealed soft patches. The skiny 700c tyre has no grip and no bounce, so I ride with care, and make it over all the difficult bits, only to UPD when I relax as I size up the next obstacle!
I zig zag between trees and over roots, feeling like a riding god, then burst out into the sunlight and some very rough ground with deep tussocky grass, where I immediately UPD again. I identify the problem as over confidence - I have stopped treating the obstacles with respect and I’m riding too fast to react when I hit the unexpected. I remount and, standing on the pedals, I pick my way through the long grass back to the lakeside.
A short section of tarmac around the head of the lake, and already I’m bored with tarmac (and this is the uni I called the Road Razor!) and I divert across a small access bridge, ride through goose-droppings and grass and then over a narrow wooden footbridge and a narrow patch of sand and gravel.
