Gerry Attrick
Lincolnshire Mountain Rescue Consultant
or not...
As is my wont, went for a pleasant ride early this fair morn. A few miles from home, I met with an attractive young blonde lady on an almost as attractive horse. Instinctively as a male, I checked for excess snot on my fizzog, put on my best Lance Armstrong expression and bid the lady good day. (OK, I know I'm an old geezer, but pride won't let me give up hope).
As said lady responds with a lovely smile and wave, Attrick hits a perfectly placed patch of gravel, and it being a bend, the inevitable happens. No, I didn't actually hit the deck, but the resulting sight of flailing arms and legs, accompanied by the extremely undignified language totally destroyed the carefully cultivated cool cyclist image I imagined I had manufactured.
Why do things like this happen
As is my wont, went for a pleasant ride early this fair morn. A few miles from home, I met with an attractive young blonde lady on an almost as attractive horse. Instinctively as a male, I checked for excess snot on my fizzog, put on my best Lance Armstrong expression and bid the lady good day. (OK, I know I'm an old geezer, but pride won't let me give up hope).
As said lady responds with a lovely smile and wave, Attrick hits a perfectly placed patch of gravel, and it being a bend, the inevitable happens. No, I didn't actually hit the deck, but the resulting sight of flailing arms and legs, accompanied by the extremely undignified language totally destroyed the carefully cultivated cool cyclist image I imagined I had manufactured.
Why do things like this happen