Thorn in my ride, you know...

That's all you ever were.

More words later! Strictly!

Later...

No, I’m not talking about the guy that gave me a thrashing up the last hill home. He did the gentlemanly thing once he’d realised it was just the local slowcoach he’d overtaken (although he did overtake her... that’s been clocked!)

There was an incredible amount of water about after yesterday’s and last night’s rain but the light was perfect and I knew I was in for a good day. I had my usual options but felt OK at my turning point and headed on over Malham Moor with the place to myself. I was expecting the roads to be teeming with cyclists and cars but it wasn’t until I was nearing the top of Brootes Lane that someone’s heavy breathing overtook me. I was in no rush (and in no shape to rush!) but we had a little chat before he stopped to wait for his buddies to catch up. A little later, there was a small peloton that came by but really that was it for the day.  I concluded it was THE Saturday Christmas-do night and people simply weren’t up and about.

It was a joy! Particularly so as I hit this Blip point; the wind was now on my tail and my speed picking up just a touch. I made it to my favourite cafe for some well-earned sustenance. A couple suggested that the road I was taking may be waterlogged but given I’d already hit a few deep puddles spanning the road, I wasn’t too worried.

Well, it was a running river about a foot deep that required pedalling a fair distance before reaching dry land! I could see grunge upon grunge underneath the water and held my breath.  Not quite long enough! About half a kilometre later, I heard a familiar noise and looked down to see a flat front tyre.

The thorn in my ride!

It took me a while to pluck it out as it was wedged into my winter tyres most firmly. Fingers! Teeth! Eventually, I snapped it off and had to force it back out with a tyre lever. Patched. New tube. On my way.

Singing the song!