What a super chap!

[Melvil]

Hi everyone. Not posted for ages, but just wanted to talk about a lovely piece of kindness after a recent ride.

So...a longish run from Edinburgh to North Berwick. I kidded myself on that I was going fast (but the massive tailwind might also have helped!).

After 30 odd miles and just when I'm passing the 'welcome to North Berwick' sign I realise with a start that I've left my wallet at home. All my money, all my cards - and with that strong strong wind and no water etc. I'm not going to make it back to Edinburgh easily.

So I went into an LBS called Law Cycles in North Berwick and asked what the local taxi company number was. There, to my great surprise, the guy there who owned the shop said 'don't worry about a taxi, they're dead expensive - here, have some money for the train fare back home.' He dug into his till and gave me some money with a smile saying 'pay me back any time.'

So I took the train and just was quite simple amazed at this guy's generosity. He didn't know me from Adam but helped me out. He's going to get a nice present in return now...

Anyone else received some nice cycling generosity?

 

[Dayvo]

Nice one, Melvil.

Good karma all round, methinks. Helluva of a gesture by the fella in the shop.


Good to see you here on the forum again.

 

[vernon]

I arrived at The Cotton Arms in Wrenbury for an overnight stay during a LEJOG. I pitched my tent then discovered that I'd lost my wallet. I had £1.50 in loose change or thereabouts. I went into the pub and explained my predicament. The landlord immediately proclaimed it to be a problem that would sort itself out and opened a tab for me saying that he'd take me into Crewe to the banks where no doubt, I'd be sorted out the next morning. I rang my wife and arranged for her to drop off a spare cash card and some cash the following day as a 'plan B'. It proved to be fortuitous as I ate well and drank copious amounts of ale before being decanted out of the pub in the early hours. The next morning, the landlord was in no fit state to drive me into Crewe and my wife arrived just before lunch. We had lunch and a drink then I went to the bar to settle the bill. The landlord went to charge me for just the lunch and accompanying drinks. I reminded him about the previous night's ale campsite fee and food and his response 'Oh hell, call it a tenner' and he wouldn't accept a penny more.

 

[Melvil]

Nice one, Melvil.

Good karma all round, methinks. Helluva of a gesture by the fella in the shop.


Good to see you here on the forum again.

Cheers Dude :-)

 

[Cycleops]

Restored my faith in human nature, what a lovely story.

 

[Paulus]

There are still some really nice people out there, in amongst the dross.

 

[Lullabelle]

When TVC had his accident a passer by put his bike in his car and took it home to look after until we wanted it back. We rang him to arrange a time/date to collect it but he drove it over to us.

 

[Melvil]

When TVC had his accident a passer by put his bike in his car and took it home to look after until we wanted it back. We rang him to arrange a time/date to collect it but he drove it over to us.

That's lovely. When I broke my leg coming off the bike the two guys from the car garage who helped me also took care of the bike (which didn't have a scratch on it - unlike me!) until SWMBO collected it.

 

[Vapin' Joe]

That's a lovely story, it shows that most people are very decent human beings and highlights the camaraderie among people who share a hobby, especially a minority one.

 

[vernon]

Same LEJOG - I met a chap called George from, Fullwood near Preston in the Avon Gorge and we got chatting we hit it off and spent the rest of the day cycling over the Severn Bridge, along the Wye Valley and into Monmouth where we camped. He had to press on for home the following day but left me his address and phone number and invited me to stay for a day as i'd welcome the break and it was more or less the half way point. I put the slip of paper in my bar bag and didn't give it much thought thinking that I'd press on through Preston, two or three days away in my enthusiasm to get to John o'Groats.

It was not to be.

Several days later around six o'clock in the evening on Friday night in Chorley, I hit a pot hole and heard a loud click and immediately my bike began to wobble. I thought that I had broken some spokes in my rear wheel and had buckled it. I felt all of the spokes and they were all tight. I spun the back wheel and it was still true. I remounted the bike and tried to peddle off and it wobbled alarmingly. I repeated the spoke and wheel inspection and remounted - still a wobble. Then I spotted the cause of the wobble. The rear drive side rear drop out had fractured. Game over.

I was wrong.

I dug out the slip of paper from George and rang him. I told him my predicament and said I was about to head for home in Leeds having abandoned the ride. He told me not to be stupid and to stay put and he'd come to get me. He duly turned up in his car. Put my bike and luggage in the back and ferried me to his mate's house - Bill Nickson, a bike shop owner and the last English winner of the Milk Race. He'd clearly had words with Bill before he picked me up because he was waiting in his garage with his welding/brazing gear at the ready. Introductions were made, tea and cake was served and Bill got to work making a rough and ready repair to the drop out.

He pronounced the job done and handed the bike back to me. He refused any payment saying that because of the bodged nature of the repair, he could not and would not guarantee its effectiveness but suggested that should it survive until John o'Groats I might like to consider making a donation to an air ambulance service of my choice. George then ferried me back to his house where a slap up supper prepared by his partner awaited. I was made very welcome and we had a realxing day pottering around Preston visiting the market and getting ready fro the departure the next day.

The Yorkshire Air Ambulance got its donation and Bill got a thank you postcard from JOG.

 

[pplpilot]

I do believe that the majority of folk are the good ones and it only a minority spoiling it for the rest.

 

[MossCommuter]

I got driven at and beeped by an angry Landrover driver today

Normal service is resumed

 

[400bhp]

Same LEJOG - I met a chap called George from, Fullwood near Preston in the Avon Gorge and we got chatting we hit it off and spent the rest of the day cycling over the Severn Bridge, along the Wye Valley and into Monmouth where we camped. He had to press on for home the following day but left me his address and phone number and invited me to stay for a day as i'd welcome the break and it was more or less the half way point. I put the slip of paper in my bar bag and didn't give it much thought thinking that I'd press on through Preston, two or three days away in my enthusiasm to get to John o'Groats.

It was not to be.

Several days later around six o'clock in the evening on Friday night in Chorley, I hit a pot hole and heard a loud click and immediately my bike began to wobble. I thought that I had broken some spokes in my rear wheel and had buckled it. I felt all of the spokes and they were all tight. I spun the back wheel and it was still true. I remounted the bike and tried to peddle off and it wobbled alarmingly. I repeated the spoke and wheel inspection and remounted - still a wobble. Then I spotted the cause of the wobble. The rear drive side rear drop out had fractured. Game over.

I was wrong.

I dug out the slip of paper from George and rang him. I told him my predicament and said I was about to head for home in Leeds having abandoned the ride. He told me not to be stupid and to stay put and he'd come to get me. He duly turned up in his car. Put my bike and luggage in the back and ferried me to his mate's house - Bill Nickson, a bike shop owner and the last English winner of the Milk Race. He'd clearly had words with Bill before he picked me up because he was waiting in his garage with his welding/brazing gear at the ready. Introductions were made, tea and cake was served and Bill got to work making a rough and ready repair to the drop out.

He pronounced the job done and handed the bike back to me. He refused any payment saying that because of the bodged nature of the repair, he could not and would not guarantee its effectiveness but suggested that should it survive until John o'Groats I might like to consider making a donation to an air ambulance service of my choice. George then ferried me back to his house where a slap up supper prepared by his partner awaited. I was made very welcome and we had a realxing day pottering around Preston visiting the market and getting ready fro the departure the next day.

The Yorkshire Air Ambulance got its donation and Bill got a thank you postcard from JOG.

You have some great stories Vernon - you should write a book.

 

[Melvil]

Same LEJOG - I met a chap called George from, Fullwood near Preston in the Avon Gorge and we got chatting we hit it off and spent the rest of the day cycling over the Severn Bridge, along the Wye Valley and into Monmouth where we camped. He had to press on for home the following day but left me his address and phone number and invited me to stay for a day as i'd welcome the break and it was more or less the half way point. I put the slip of paper in my bar bag and didn't give it much thought thinking that I'd press on through Preston, two or three days away in my enthusiasm to get to John o'Groats.

It was not to be.

Several days later around six o'clock in the evening on Friday night in Chorley, I hit a pot hole and heard a loud click and immediately my bike began to wobble. I thought that I had broken some spokes in my rear wheel and had buckled it. I felt all of the spokes and they were all tight. I spun the back wheel and it was still true. I remounted the bike and tried to peddle off and it wobbled alarmingly. I repeated the spoke and wheel inspection and remounted - still a wobble. Then I spotted the cause of the wobble. The rear drive side rear drop out had fractured. Game over.

I was wrong.

I dug out the slip of paper from George and rang him. I told him my predicament and said I was about to head for home in Leeds having abandoned the ride. He told me not to be stupid and to stay put and he'd come to get me. He duly turned up in his car. Put my bike and luggage in the back and ferried me to his mate's house - Bill Nickson, a bike shop owner and the last English winner of the Milk Race. He'd clearly had words with Bill before he picked me up because he was waiting in his garage with his welding/brazing gear at the ready. Introductions were made, tea and cake was served and Bill got to work making a rough and ready repair to the drop out.

He pronounced the job done and handed the bike back to me. He refused any payment saying that because of the bodged nature of the repair, he could not and would not guarantee its effectiveness but suggested that should it survive until John o'Groats I might like to consider making a donation to an air ambulance service of my choice. George then ferried me back to his house where a slap up supper prepared by his partner awaited. I was made very welcome and we had a realxing day pottering around Preston visiting the market and getting ready fro the departure the next day.

The Yorkshire Air Ambulance got its donation and Bill got a thank you postcard from JOG.

That really is a lovely story Vernon. You were very lucky meeting a welder too!

 

[vernon]

Sometimes one gets the opportunity to be the nice guy.

This summer I cycled from Budapest to Belgrade along the Danube. Some of the route was along the battle zone between Croatia and Serbia. One hot afternoon I arrived in Vukovar, unbeknown to me, the first European town to be flattened by war since WWII. Buildings otherwise repaired still bore the pock marks caused by shrapnel and bullets, some buildings remained as shells and the riverside water tower complete with shell holes stands as a monument to the siege of 1991.

I stopped at a cafe/bar and ordered a beer, then a coffee then another beer - it was a hot day and I was thirsty. The young barman struck up conversation with me and we exchanged ideas of what we thought of each other's country and it politics. I'm never one to be in a hurry when in foreign climes when conversations take place and as the afternoon wore on the bar man opened up and shared his hopes and fears for the future of Croatia and himself. I got the the low down on the seige of Vokovar and the massacre that took place there. He showed me harrowing photographs taken during the seige and I had to retreat to the toilets to remove the bits of grit that made my eyes water uncontrollably. The town is not a happy place and ethnic divisions are as strong as ever.

He was a top earner at four hundred euros a month and explained what impact that it had on his life - holidays taken at home because he couldn't afford to go anywhere, living with his mother because he couldn't afford to rent an apartment, having to take out a bank loan to buy a television and a boss that was a mean money grabbing git. Having a partner and raising a family was out of the question financially and he had managed to scrape enough together to leave the country for Sweden where a job awaited him and he could pay off his debts. He was ready to leave within the month.

Three hours had passed and I asked for the bill. He handed it to me with the words 'the drinks are on me' written at the bottom. I readied myself for departure and rolled up a twenty euro note and pressed it in to his hands saying 'When you get to Sweden, the first drinks are on me' He protested that it was too much I insisted that he kept it.

It was his turn to extract some grit from his eyes.