Wednesday Chain Gang - Slander, Libel and Banditry

A bright, sunny Wednesday, gave way to a clear, moonlit evening with a scouring, chilling east wind. 18 riders braved the cold for the chance of a swift outward leg, thinking that perhaps they could make the return journey sheltering behind larger 'fence panel' club members. For some, this was an ambition they fully achieved, as we shall see...

A chatty wait before the 'off' saw me nearly miss the ultras rolling out, so I had to pelt after Stuart, Shaun, Barney and Michael, catching them just as they were talking about how small the group was - 'and me - El Capitan!' I shouted, like a bloody schoolboy. Which reminds me, where is El Presidente and his chequered board these days?

Stuart gave the signal and we rotated neatly all the way to Cooden, the smaller number of riders making for better communication and easier encouragement. I think my pacing on the front has improved this year, mostly due to going up a gear when I move across, slowing just enough to slot in front of the previous front man. That said, I was a little too enthusiastic at times and was reminded not to surge. I think getting the pace right on the front is the hardest part of riding in the chain. For some, it is evidently so hard that they avoid it altogether.

On we pressed, the pace increasing all the time, but I managed to hang on and do my turns on the front. The bridge at the Star Inn slowed us and gave me a breather, before the group again sped on towards Normans Bay and the foot of Spooky Hill. At this point, Stuart gave me some encouragement and Shaun gave me some advice, both of which were very welcome. I dropped a gear as we hit the slope and got out of the saddle to really push myself up the hill, but I couldn't match their pace. A ridge part-way up the hill made the rear wheel skip sideways, as it had a couple of weeks back, and I thought I was coming off. I hesitated for half a pedal stroke and the gap that had already started grew to 10, 20 and then 30 metres.  For a short while I thought I was catching them again, but they sped off down the hill and that was that - the evil slope had done for me again!

I rode on feeling fairly confident that I would not be caught by the others, until quite late on I became aware of lights coming up behind me. For a few hundred metres, I convinced myself that they were from a car, but eventually I could deny the truth no longer - it was the 'others'. Ugh! I did my best to hold them off, but Gareth P honked past me on the home stretch, the cad. I threw imaginary daggers at his arse and then went past him just before the layby, technically beating him. Ha! Not that it's about winning or losing, you understand.

Stuart called me over for a chat and I will admit I was slightly distracted by the appearance of Michael. It took a moment or two to work it out and then I realised his eyebrows were missing. Chemotherapy (he had said he was ill again), burnt off by an exploding chip pan, or a student prank of some sort? What do you think? He said later that his eyebrows are now 'aero', by which he means 'gone'. It's not a look I recommend and I think plenty of pros ride with bushy ones - Wiggo and Cav amongst them.

We waited for the lantern rouge to ride up, this week handsomely played by the debonair and stylish 'Gadget man', complete with new flashing cycling blouse. Steve F certainly has a fascination with cycling electronics and I can see why he is an electrician - the wiring alone must be a marvel of modern technology, let alone the solar panels and wind turbines needed to power the 'mobile disco'. Good to see you back on the bike Steve.

No sooner were we gathered up than we set off to Bexhill, through the teeth of that damn east wind. I took it easier than on the way out ('If it's windy, slow down' - Chris Boardman, truly!), falling into a group with Dan S, Simon G, Ian Webster and a couple of others. We rode well together, although I was aware of someone lurking at the back, whilst the rest of us toiled away honestly at the front. I didn't think about it too much, I just got on with working as a team with the others, doing my share, taking my turn, working for our mutual benefit. That is, after all, the spirit and intent of the chain gang.

And so we rode on, fairly smoothly, picking up speed as we rolled along Cooden Drive towards Wickham Avenue and the lights. Suddenly, from nowhere, there arrived a rider clad in luminous green, a shade of green that clashed horribly with his garish ginger beard. More shocking than this was the speed with which this 'bandit' rode off, having had, I realised, a long and restful tow all the way back to Bexhill! This miscreant and reprobate was none other than Gareth 'I need a rest' Purves. The cheek of the man! Having worked hard and fair all the way back, none of us could respond.

We rolled into the lights just behind him and made clear our views on his outrageous behaviour. He seemed not to care a jot, such is his appalling lack of riding manners. I suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for Kerri, his older, wiser and better looking brother, who must've spent years trying to make Gareth into a decent human being, only to be rewarded by seeing him grow into an uncouth cycling lout*.

'What happened' asked Peter as we trundled back to Cooden with Stewart.

'Banditry' I replied.

'Ah...' said Peter and Stewart together, followed by a quizzical 'Gareth P?'

'Yes', I grumbled, 'Gareth - my legs hurt - Purves'.

'Ah..!' they said together again, this time with feeling.

The second return from Pevensey roundabout to Bexhill was horrible. A solo ride into a vicious cold easterly with no-one to share the load with. I doubted the wisdom of doing a second leg and could think of nothing better than getting home, warming up and eating a hot meal. That's the last tough ride I'll do before Hardriders on Sunday - just a couple of easy spins between now and then. See you there, either as competitors or as spectators!

Oh, and if you see a bloke in a luminous top with a badly trimmed red beard, be sure to hurl insults, rotten eggs, cow dung and bare your arse in his direction.

Safe rising, Neil Smith

* For the avoidance of doubt, I am joking - Gareth is a nice chap really. An ignorant rider, but nice underneath it all.