Including The Physics of Tailing Dumper Trucks.
It was a lovely mild morning, but only 4 of us arrived at the roundabout today; Clifford, Alistair, John and I. The Old Master declared Cromarty was the destination and set off briskly up the cycle path. We sped quickly along the shore road, up Findon Brae and down Cullicudden assisted by a nice tailwind. It was noted that All Weather Al was perhaps still waiting for winter to arrive and therefore hadn’t got his mudguards out yet. There was some switching of places behind him to avoid being the spottiest cyclist.
Pilot John educated me on the physics of headwinds (this came in handy for later on). Wind = amount of power need for same speed cubed (or something). He also insisted he would not be contesting the sprint today. But was he bluffing? Or double bluffing? We reached the 300 yard sign on the approach to Cromarty and no-one made a move. The Pilot was telling the truth then. 200 yards to go, and the Old Master began to move up beside us on the outside. The Pilot exploded off towards the 30, with the Old Master and me in pursuit, but alas, the Pilot was too quick once again. Never trust the Pilot is the conclusion here.
A variety of topics were discussed over coffee and scones; pitchforks, what we were doing in 1966 and 1984 (me – n/a and being born), where Trump would ride if he was in the peloton (at the back until there were people there, at which point he would be at the front), and finally that the return of Julian signals the official start of British Summer Time.
Back on the bikes and heading up the hill out of Cromarty, we found the obligatory headwind. I was slogging away at the front next to the Old Master, and it seemed to me that the pace was gradually increasing. Around halfway up the hill, the Old Master activated his extra lung that he keeps in reserve and sped off at an even faster pace. At the top he said he was proving a point about headwinds (that they are hard to cycle in?).
Anyway, he was off at pace again at the turn up the hill to Killen, after half a mile we were passed by a dumper truck and managed to get a tow from it for a way. Single file chain gang along Killen and Belmaduthy and I must have drawn the short straw as I was definitely the spottiest cyclist behind All Weather Al by the end of the road. At the top of Knockbain, All Weather Al received the ultimate compliment from the Old Master: ‘He looks like a cyclist now’.
I left the group at the bottom of Knockbain to continue their quest into the headwind.
Thanks all for a fun cycle.