About 3 months ago I was on the phone to Housy, and he asked me if I wanted to go on a mountain bike trip he always organises in September. At the time it seemed like a really good idea, bearing in mind I’d not been on a bike since I was 20 years old. However I’ve got a serious history with mountain bikes. Prior to going to University I was a mountain bike NUT. If there were two things that I could consider myself completely obsessed with, it was comic books and mountain biking; movies and video games were in there somewhere but no where near my obsession with the other two.

So I said yeah, sounds like a plan, and then forgot about it. Last week Housy rings me again to remind me of it all, needless to say it’s completely slipped my mind. I’m soo glad I didn’t try and find some bullshit excuse to get out of it all. I’ve been going through a bit of a rough time, just having London and work shoved down my throat. It’s amazing how little you need to travel to be out in the country, with completely untouched areas of green and trees and yellow fields. My favorite part was the fact that I had nothing on me, save the bottle of water. The mobile phone, the keys the wallet, everything was left behind. It was just me, the bike and the mountains.

I’ve never used a bike with disc brakes. My mountain bike was one of the first to actually have front suspension, so it’s pretty crazy for me looking at these things, and the guys talking about their top changing gear-changers as ‘retro’. Which is probably why I locked my brakes, making it look like I was in for a pretty hairy moment. We’re going down this side road, but we’re traveling at at least 30 miles an hour, and it’s a turn at the bottom of the hill, and a jeep decides it wants to use the other side of the road for traveling while I’m going down it (how inconsiderate I say). So a bit of flat tiring and some burnt rubber smell and the ride continued. The thing is though that I’ve been in a lot worse situations in the past, which is why I was pretty calm through out this whole incident. When you’re younger you really don’t give a shit. You don’t know fear.

We covered a total of 48km (30 miles), in the sunny hills of Wendover. We didn’t do it in the best of times, but 48km off road is pretty hardcore seeing as I’ve not done it in 6 years. My a$$ is feeling it, as are the palms of my hands from the battering the handle bars gave my hands, but I feel completely invigorated having done this, gave me an incredible adrenaline rush, and got me out the city, which is a major plus. It’s not something I would have done on my own as I’m a complete City Slicker. It’s not a question of not being interested, but it’s more of a question of not having the drive to go and do the country thing.

Easily the most amazing thing I saw was a little old lady that was working in the restaurant area of the pub/hotel we were staying at. We later found out that Dolly was 91 years old, and still coming into work like clockwork, waiting on tables. I find that completely amazing, as I’ll probably be dead and buried around that time, but here is this old lady who’s active in ways many people in their 20s aren’t. Waiting on tables is hard work, especially with a bunch of quasi to completely drunk mountain-bikers.

Originally I was scared that I had forgotten how to ride, but that’s not the case, it truly is like riding a bike :).