It's not a goat's life!

For those of you who are of a certain vintage, you’ll know what a leather chammy is…… It’s a cloth, made from the leather of a chamois goat, which was typically used to polish car paintwork and windscreens (before the invention of micro-fibre cloths).
 
What fewer people know is that this fine leather from our friendly Alpine goat was also used as the padded insert for cycling shorts. When leather gets damp and then dries out again it loses its suppleness, becoming harder and cracked. Now imagine where it is positioned in relation to human anatomy and you get the picture.
 
When I started cycling, shorts with chammy leather were more common, but still the preserve of premium brands such as Assos (not to be confused with Asos). What is essential is that the pad was treated with cream, a mild antiseptic one, so that it does not develop the properties of biltong (an African dried/cured chewy meat that does not go off in the mid-day sun). I could never afford Assos shorts so never bought chammy cream.
 
That was until recently when I discovered how effective this emollient cream was at maintaining a comfortable micro-climate and reducing chaffing in my crotch area. I think the first time I used the stuff was when Rosemary bought a tube of the stuff and I found her dancing about the bathroom shouting “it tingles”, with a big smile on her face. I just had to try it.
 
Squeezing a blob onto my hands, I proceeded to wipe the cream over my genitalia. I was soon dancing about the bathroom shouting “it tingles”, with a big smile on my face and I now use the stuff religiously. What’s more, the stuff keeps my crotch sweet smelling, well lubricated and enhances the comfort on most of my bike rides. It’s a wonder product.
 
This Rapha stuff in the photo is a premium product, which “smells like the foothills of Mount Ventoux”. I always look forward to applying it, although such application tends now to be more functional. I am now used to the gentle tingling sensation, and although pleasant, it does not provide tingly titillation.  
 
After application this morning, I jumped on my bike, leaving Rosemary in her slumber, and rode up through town towards Hill End to meet up for the Edinburgh Road Club Sunday run. I had to smash it a little, having spent unplanned time arranging my glove lining so that I could get my hand in the bloody thing. There were 7 of us, with steel rather than carbon bikes being the order of the day. Rider vintage was reflective of this equipment choice.
 
Things were still familiar to me, despite having lived away from Edinburgh for 7 years or so. Gareth was leading, resplendent on his bright red steel Pinarello. Despite having just entered his 70th year, he’s as fit as a butcher’s dug, and can give people over half his age a hard time on the bike. Our small group headed off towards Penicuik, in tight formation, one which was quite different to the quasi-random dangerousness experienced when riding with a group of triathletes. We cut off towards Auchendinny, taking a cycle path, that I didn’t know existed, circumnavigating Penicuik. We were soon on the high exposed moor road to West Linton.
 
Luckily, the wind wasn’t too bad, and it was only damp rather than wet. Being enveloped in grey misty cloud is somewhat peaceful. Pace was ‘chatty’ as there were no egotistical MAMILs (middle-aged men in lycra) present. Vinny, if you read this, a MAMIL is different to a MILF. Ali’ was struggling happily as she hadn’t been out on the bike for months and we had to wait on her a wee bit after the odd hill. We descended towards Lamancha and the organic café at Whitmuir for rather amazing scones and tea.
 
The homeward leg was a little pacier as it was mainly downhill. I was a wee bit cold as we reached Howgate and had to stop to put my jacket on. The flipping zip jammed and it took ages to sort because my hands were cold. The group were way out of sight by now so I had to smash it, descending towards Auchendinny like a lunatic on angel dust and only catching them on the climb out the village. I enjoyed that! The group dispersed naturally without any formal goodbyes as is sometimes the case. What a fun ride.
 
   
Rosemary was out running when I got home, a home without any food in the fridge. I turned straight round again, pedalled to Earthy for provisions, and then home again. She was home now and was kind enough to make lunch. Afterwards, I went for my shower, delighted to find that my crotch was still smelling of the foothills of Ventoux and I did not have any rubby bits, despite 70km in the saddle. The joys of chamois cream!