CycleChat The Novel.

[User32269]

Meanwhile, across the tracks in the down at heel part of town, Sam Shovel sat contemplating the drifts of dust, highlighted by weak sunlight, covering his desk. Business had been slow since opening his detective agency three months ago. He was beginning to think it had all been a terrible mistake. The door creaked open and standing there was the kind of dame who could pop the top off your bottle of Tango at fifty yards. Shovel knew this firecracker was dangerous, she could explode any moment, Shovel sensed trouble.
"They call me Italian Pat," she rasped in the sort of Glasgow accent that could strip paint. She removed the Peppa Pig helmet and ankle clips as she strutted through the door.
"Hey handsome, wipe that pie juice from yer chin and I'll tell you a story," purred Pat.

 

[Bazzer]

Her trainers seemed to glide along the floor as she approached his desk. A chair was dragged noisily from under Shovel's desk and Italian Pat moulded herself on to the seat.

 

[Randomnerd]

"Ahv just come down yon corridor from yer mate's gaff, yon wee dic Dick Pick, to see if he could find me a missin' person. But yon wee dic Dick Pick isnae haem. Ah didnae want tae blether wi yous, ken, wi' aw oour history, unnerstond? But here ah am. So whit di yer say? are yer up fer a wee bitty excitement?"

 

[User32269]

"Pardon?" Said Shovel, looking bemused.

 

[Randomnerd]

"Yiwatt?" spat Italian Pat, literally. Shovel wiped a little mote of - could it be? - chewed Fray Bentos crust from his sun-seared cheek. He knew chewed crust and he knew this was Brazilian. Something was not right...

 

[Dave 123]

Suddenly the door burst open, a head popped through the gap...


"I'm Ronnie Pickering!"

"Oh bugger off " groaned Pat

 

[User32269]

Suddenly another (!) figure appeared in the doorway to the shabby office, it was the occupant of the office next door. A mysterious character known only as Dapper Dirk. Rumours abounded concerning his shady business dealings, yet he proclaimed he was retired to all he met. Like a cheap carbon abacus from an online Chinese supplier, this didn't add up properly.
Pat eyed up the newcomer, drinking in his steak and kidney aftershave, the waxed moustache gave her tingles, and the gleaming Raleigh Twenty he was pushing sealed the deal.
"Shovel, I've just had a call from my chum Accy the butler," lisped Dapper Dirk in a slightly salacious manner.
Italian Pat's eyes sparked at the mention of her old lover Accy. She took a huge gulp from her bottle of Buckfast, needing some Dutch courage as she sensed things were about to get dangerous, very dangerous.

 

[roadrash]

All shovel cared about was whether they could help with his latest missing persons case, perhaps together they could eventually find the elusive mad doug biker

 

[Smokin Joe]

Meanwhile, in a bikeshop on the other side of town, Mickle approaches a chain with an oily rag...

 

[Drago]

The chain was wrapped around the wrists of his prisoner, the delightful millionairess, Lady Stephec. Mickle was keeping her hostage for a fat ransom, but when he saw the state of that chain his resolve wavered.

 

[Fab Foodie]

(Shouldn't this thread have started with ''It was the best of rides, it was the worst of rides''?)

Who the dickens would start a story like that?

 

[User32269]

Mickle left Lady Stephec bound with gleaming chains, giving an evil cackle as he left the dingy bike shop basement; his cape sweeping behind him like a demented bat.
Luckily for Lady Stephec, her bonds were new twelve speed specific chains from Mickles latest stock delivery, they proved as strong as dental floss and our heroic aristocrat was soon free.

 

[pjd57]

( editing note. We don't say ken in Glasgow unless we are talking to Ken)

Italian Pat sensed something was wrong. But she couldn't handle all this on her own.
She jumped on her bike and set off towards the Green to get some help.

 

[Pat "5mph"]

To me, Belles on Bikes, to me!!!
Cried Lady Stephec in outrage, that villain left me deflated, not a Joe Blow nor a C02 cartridge in sight ... he must be stopped!

 

[User32269]

Pat was on her heavy commuter, panniers loaded to bursting with Special Brew. She flew past a wheezing licra clad figure on an aero carbon bike .
As he ate her dust, Blazed looked perplexed and glanced at his Strava display.