Author: Buck

I had a bad to-do this week. I was tootling down the motorway, avoiding killing the usual eejits, when I saw a hippy van, (a Volkswagen camper van) with a beardy-weirdy 20-something driving, a passenger, and another beardy-weirdy lounging in the back. I was instantly struck by a vast longing to be that hippie. It was the hippie dream, three people in a VW camper van, off to the sun and  a peace-out session. I was struck by simultaneous desire to be living the dream and a overwhelming feeling that the last 7 years of sobriety were an utter mistake. I can’t say that I’m over it even now. I realise that that isn’t the case though. You still get  up in the morning and go to work, there are no proper hippie communes and damn few real hippies. It’s just living your life with a drug problem. But, god, the dream! It’s just nostalgia for a lost youth and a yearning for what should be, no more achievable than joining Gandalf for a quest, or becoming a knight of Camelot, but sometimes rationalization means bugger all. It was so bad that for days I was thinking of non-driving jobs I could do in Cornwall so I could become a wreck-head hippie. It can’t happen. I have to think of Wendy, if nothing else. Still, it’s been a trying week.   In other news, my garden is coming together again quite nicely. I had that year or so when I barely touched it so it all went to wrack and ruin. I’m slowly reclaiming it from the grass. Bloody weed it is. I have one big patch at the bottom of the garden that is still grass infested. I was waiting for the nice early crop of strawberries then I was going to lift the strawberry plants and turn the lot over. Ha! Winter lasted until a few weeks ago so the strawbs are still ripening. Ho hum. Patience is a virtue. I will put some pictures up in a minute, having some technical difficulties here. ie, my camera battery is as flat a fluke and my ‘phone is saying the SD card is full. Charging the former and transferring the files I want to keep off the latter before wiping it. Anyway, I went to the garden centre yesterday to get a bit of cover for the raised bed. I had already planted some bulbs and baby plants there but the thousands of local cats (that Wendy feeds, grrrr) have literally shit on that attempt. So I went to get some cheap bedding plants. £46 pounds later I got some. Oops.  I saw this lovely white rambling rose. Heavily scented covers 20’ x20’. I had to get it. I’ve put it up by the shed, I’m going to train it over the whole thing. If that works it’s going to be ace. Also, when it’s established, I’ll take some cuttings and cover the fence. That should make all the […]

Oh dear, oh dear. You know I  went for that run and pulled my right calf/ tendon? I stretched it off today and went for a marathon run. After 6 miles my left calf/ tendon suddenly started hurting. I carried on the next 8 miles back to the house (I was doing a 14 mile loop followed by a 12 mile one) and just around the corner from our house my right went! Badly. I shuffled the final few hundred yards and quit. It’s a well known fact that cycling shortens your tendons. A fact that I’ve never believed because it has never affected me. Now I’m a believer. 4 weeks until the race and I’m only good for 6 miles before things start breaking. Oh dear. Drastic action is required. I can’t stop cycling, but I’m going to run for an hour every day to try to get my legs in running condition. I don’t understand it. You know how they say to bend over and touch your toes as a stretching exercise? I bend over and put my palms flat on the floor. How long have your tendons got to be? I only want to run with the buggers, not bungee jump the Grand Canyon with them.   On the bike front, things are improving. I’m used to cycling to work (10.75 miles) in 10th gear and the other night (against a slight but constant crosswind) managed to knock 2½ minutes off my PB. And then, out of the blue whilst riding to work, two of the spokes in my front wheel failed and wrapped around the spindle. I managed to wrench them free and get in on time, but then I was worried the front wheel was going to collapse. Having my feet clipped into the pedals that could have been very painful. This meant that first thing on Friday I had to take my bike in for a complete overhaul. I talked to the guy when I got my long valve inner tubes after the last debacle. He said for a new chain, gears, popping the bearings out, greasing and replacing I was looking at £80. Now I need at least 2 new spokes and all the others checking and adjusting. And new brake blocks, while I’m there. There goes at least a ton. I have to have it done though. If my chain snapped or a wheel collapsed on the Outlaw I would cry like a girl. Especially if it was near the end of the ride. Anyway, the money I’m saving on diesel will pay for it. Still. Grrrr. So my plan is; Mondays do the full 2.4 mile swim for the next 3 weeks, all the other days do an hour run and ride to and from work. Weekends I’ll do a big run and ride. This is going to be a grit-fest. I’m so not ready.   At work they’ve rented a ‘new’ (2010) truck for me and this other lad to […]

It’s been a strange and stressful week. I worked the bank holiday Monday but then my run wasn’t on for 10 days. Seems the factory still celebrate Whitsun. I don’t even know what that is. I took advantage and told the agency I was having Tuesday and Wednesday off to train. Ha! Tuesday I was struck down with a cracking headache. Which reminds me, in the previous few weeks, when I was cutting out the chocolate and riding my bike to work every day, I didn’t get a headache. That is pretty amazing for me. I’m not sure if it was the lack of chocolate/ butter or the exercise keeping my sinuses flowing (tmi, I know!) but it was welcome. So Tuesday I basically moped and necked painkillers. The agency sent me a text saying ‘call me’. I did. “Can you work tonight?” No, you cheeky bastards. Anyway, that left me with Wednesday to do some serious training. I got my bike all set up, got a load of energy gels, some energy powder mixed into two one litre water bottles, and set off to Rhyl. Gmaps pedometer said it was a 110 mile round trip. I was up for it. I got over the swing bridge and turned on to the start of Walton drag (14 minutes, 45 seconds riding) when my back tyre popped going over a pothole. I pulled over and set to replacing it. It’s not an easy matter any more. You have to take the wheel out, take on side of the tyre off then the other side and remove the tyre completely to be able to take out the long stem of the inner tube valve. I did it. Then reversed the procedure, even harder as you have to get the last bit of tyre on using just your hands as the tyre lever could pinch and pop the new tube. I put it back in the frame, went to pump it up, then realised I’d put the old tube back in. *sobs* Start again. I got the new tube in, put it back in the frame, went to pump it up, and it was the wrong valve. I had a pack of two spare inner tubes with me, both of them short valves. By short I mean ‘normal’ sized valves. Modern wheels have deep set rims, so you need extra long valves. I couldn’t even get the pump on these ones. So I had to walk back 4 or 5 miles to the local specialist bike shop, in cleated cycling shoes. These have the cleat thing (the locking mechanism to attach your shoes to the pedals) under the balls of your feet. This means you are walking on your heels with your toes pointing up. Exactly the position those ‘natural running’ trainers made you assume. The same trainers that laid me up for six months. I could feel my legs pulling as I was walking but, other than going barefoot, I couldn’t see […]

It was my birthday! Huzzah! I was working, and I don’t drink or do other drugs, but I celebrated by not dying. Again. Quite the party animal, me. However, it got me to thinking; all I do is work, sleep whenever I can, and train whenever I can force myself to do so. Life is passing me by. No more. I have a plan! Yes, all who know me or have read this blog before will know I make plans, get all excited, then quietly give up shortly thereafter. Not this time. I’m saving up each week and for my 50th I’m getting a Harley. I think I have finally reached the age where I could just enjoy puttering along at the speed limit. I’ve given up on boy-racer-ing in the car. I don’t take the piss even on the motorways. If I can ride a bike like that I can stay in a job, with a bike and out of hospital. I’m saying my 50th, arbitrarily, as it will give me time to save and also time to tick all of my other mid-life-crisis, (pushbike subsection) boxes before I get it. Which is to say; the Fred Whitton (a 112 mile ride around the most hideous hills in the Lake District: ) Now *that*, my friend, is a ride! Also there’s the Lands End to John O’Groats thing and a brand name Ironman. I’m not going to go through life saying “I did an Iron distance tri” For brevity if nothing else, I need to do the brand name event. “Yeah, did the Ironman.” See, so much neater. No-one respects a man who says “I did a generic Iron distance triathlon” I digress. Harley! I’m thinking a second hand 1200cc Sportster. The good thing about it is; 99% of Harley riders only bring them out of the shed on the one glorious day we have each year. So even one that’s a few years old may never have seen rain (or rust) and will have covered a pitiful distance. Some of them are a few years old and don’t have 5,000 miles on the clock! This for example: 2004, one owner from new, 3,981 miles! That’s going for £4,850 right now. If anyone wants to buy it me I’ll reluctantly accept. There is a possible non sequitur there. I have to do all my box ticking (cycle section) before I get a Harley as I’m never getting back on a pushbike once I have one. Phase II of my midlife crisis involves me getting back on a Harley and getting fat. (Fatter!) I have the incentive this time of knowing that my livelihood (as well as life) depend on my riding like a sane commuter. I reckon I can now.   That’s for the future, though I started the saving this week. If I get a well paid job I would prefer a ‘big’ Harley. At nearly 13k I would have to be on a massively well paid job […]

It’s been tweaking of the norm at work. I was getting in for 1500hrs, sitting around for 30- 90 minutes for that jobsworth I’ve been sharing a unit (truck) with to get back then trotting off up to the Scottish border, doing a trailer swap and then back to Crewe. This takes until about 2330hrs. Then on Tuesday the guy at Crewe went on one. “You’re supposed to be here by 8 o’clock! Now we’ve missed the connection for the next driver” etc, etc. I let him rant a bit then told him that was a good run. I couldn’t get there much faster. If he wanted an earlier delivery I’d have to start earlier. “It’s not rocket science.” That went down well. I put my ‘phone on silent when I go to bed otherwise I get random tweets and emails waking me up. On Wednesday I got up at 1210, had a quick shower, turned the volume back on on my ‘phone and saw I had two missed calls and a text. From the agency. Start at 1300hrs from today. Aaaarggghhhh! Flap on. I got in for 1315. (In the car.) The change of times means I can get back to Crewe for 2115. Not what they want but near enough to stop them whining. The great things about the change are; not having to sit around waiting for Bill to get back, not having to talk to the brain-donor security guard at Aspatria and a more reasonable finish time. I can get to bed by 0100. The downside is as it’s a straight run with no waiting around now I’m only averaging about 9 hours 15 minutes (paid) a day. This is piss-poor in the lorry driving world.   Then they were desperate for drivers at Iceland this weekend. So after a full week at Ceva I went in today (Saturday). It’s not so much the money (which, let’s face it, never goes amiss) but the fact that I want to keep my foot in the door there. They sent me out with a 9 metre trailer. Titchy. To Ashton. I noticed it was marked as a “RED ROUTE”. This did not inspire joy. They have some awkward bastard stores as it is, which aren’t marked as red route. Hence this had to be bad. It was. I had to drive an (admittedly relatively small) artic through a pedestrianized zone in a town centre, then reverse in a tiny street on to the bay. I managed it after a couple of attempts. It was that tight that I took up all the road and I still wasn’t straight. ie, my unit wasn’t in line with my trailer. I asked the guy who worked there and he said that wouldn’t do, I had to back it in and leave my unit at a right angle to my my trailer. I was less than chuffed. In the end I had to get it like this: It was totally weird. You […]