get the complete book here! {Or here (US) -Erin}
 
 
*Chapter 10*

Ring of Truth

 
 
It was a pleasant evening although being September the evening was rapidly closing in, by the time we’d walked the few hundred metres to the museum the light was definitely going. Of course, at close to eight in the evening the ‘Technik Museum Speyer’ wasn’t open but with plenty of exhibits outside there was a bit of stuff to look at through the fence.

“Didn’t we go past here when we went to Stuttgart?” Roni observed.

“That was Sinsheim,” Dad told us as we scanned the assorted aircraft and shipping, “I think the two are connected.”

The Jumbo wasn’t actually on top of the buildings as it appeared but rather held up on huge steel legs, the smaller aircraft held up in similar fashion with steps up to them, I’m guessing you can go into some of them. The shipping was exhibited less dramatically, a huge submarine, some sort of coastguard boat and another vessel that might have been a fishing boat.

“‘S a bit like the place in Luzern,” I opined.

“I guess so.” Dad agreed.

The site was certainly quite big; it would be no half hour visit to see everything.

“Come on then, let’s get back,” Dad suggested.

There wasn’t any point in lingering and to be honest I was starting to feel a bit cold, my vest top and denim skirt not exactly designed for warmth – not that Roni’s t-shirt and shorts were any better. Tomorrow I get to be Drew; tonight I get to be comfortable! We walked the short distance back to the city centre, Dad leading the way.
 
 

“Soz about earlier, Ron.”

“‘S okay, moon time?”

“Moon ti, no, no.”

“So?”

“You know I go to Garde?”

“That weird dance thing?”

“Yeah, well anyway, Hannah, she’s in charge like, she wants me to set up a cheerleading section of the club.”

“And?”

“Mum and Dad want to stick their noses in…”

 
 
Dave was far enough ahead to give the girls’ conversation some privacy but still hear most of what was being said. Perhaps they were being a bit heavy handed over this, clearly Drew was mostly upset that they didn’t trust him, her, Dave corrected himself. The older girl wasn’t really having much input to the conversation, perhaps experience showing in her responses.

 
 
“Breakfast at eight, we need to be away by nine.” Dave told his charges.

“We’ll be there,” Ron confirmed.

“I’ve got my alarm, Dad,” Drew told them.

“Dressed and ready, eh?” Dave pressed.

“Yes, Daddy,” Bond junior sighed.

Dave watched them go into their room, how strange is that, after all the pretence and subterfuge of the last eighteen months. It had always been he and Drew sharing a room on these trips and now he’d be sleeping alone instead of Roni. Life can certainly throw you some curve balls and Drew, Gaby was a real googly!
 
 

“Come on, girls, we need to get going,” Dave prompted from the door.

“It’s not nine yet,” Drew stated.

“Which just goes to prove you can get up in the morning,” Bond senior observed.

“Come on, Gab’s, we’ll have more time to warm up,” Ron suggested dragging her teammate outside to the car.
 
 

They were soon heading towards Hockenheim, it was only about fifteen kilometres even the way they direct you to the circuit. Once at the circuit they followed a couple of other cars clearly here for the cycling, by nine thirty the Mercedes was parked.

“Go and get signed on, I’ll have the bikes ready when you get back.”

“’Kay,” Drew agreed.
 
 

“Bit quieter than last week, eh?” Ron observed.

“Not many.”

“It’s gonna be weird riding an ordinary event again.”

“I guess,” Drew agreed, “last one I did was in England, Cav beat me there as well.”

That was sort of comforting; Mark wouldn’t be here so my chances of a win are pretty good.

 
 
We were already in our race kit so once we’d got our numbers, one and two, we returned to Dad and the bikes.

“We can warm up on the circuit until ten,” Ron told Dad.

“Better not waste any time then, get off and I’ll bring everything over.”
 
 

I’ve been out training a couple of times this week but to be honest I wasn’t really trying, just going through the motions. Today, this morning, I need to get back into the groove, it’s not part of any series so there’s nothing at stake other than pride and a reasonable prize fund. We rode out onto the circuit, the wide tarmac quite a contrast to our usual racing conditions.

“Might get a couple of laps before they clear us.”

“Come on then,” Ron suggested.

Compared to my local motor racing circuit Hockenheim is boring. It’s almost flat, the infield pretty much featureless, even Cosford is more exciting! We were soon riding tempo, a few other competitors doing likewise in ones or twos, by the time we’d completed a full lap we were part of a peloton of about a dozen holding a steady pace as we chatted.

It’s a big country, lots of riders, some never venturing far from home, others travelling far and wide to race. It does mean you meet lots of different riders, today was no surprise, a few jerseys that I recognised from past excursions in this general direction mixed with others less familiar. It was a friendly exchange of banter, the rarefied atmosphere of the Worlds replaced by a less serious enthusiasm – these guys’ ambition lay much closer to home. Compared to the intense atmosphere I’ve been living in for most of the summer this was refreshing indeed.

We completed a second lap, picking up a few more bods on the way, before the officials brought us in.

 
 
“Everything okay?” Dad enquired when we drew up to the pit wall.

“I guess,” I allowed as I divested myself of my trackie top.

“Roni?”

“Fine, Herr Bond, pity the others aren’t here.”

“Well we don’t have so much budget we can spend it on events with no real return, Dieter’s lined them up some rides in the north so they aren’t missing out.”

“Best get to the line,” I suggested.

“Don’t want to miss the start,” Ron snickered.

“Glück, kids.”

“Tschussie!” I offered as I pushed off towards the start area.

 
 
Being a chipper there was none of the intro stuff we get at the series races instead we lined up across the circuit, the starting straight easily able to accommodate the sixty or so teens who were competing this morning. Some guy stood out in front of us and gave a little speech about the timing of prime laps and lapped riders before hurrying to the side. There isn’t any neutralised sector, when the gun goes off that’s it, it was tempting to take a flyer but fifteen laps of this exposed circuit might be a bit much.

Crack!

The starter’s gun signalled the start of hostilities and we were off. The sound of cleats clicking into pedals quickly faded as the long line of riders began to quickly coalesce into something resembling a peloton. Having put ourselves in the centre of the line Ron and I were well placed to get in the front half of the group that without our input was already gathering momentum.

Over the course of the first lap the more capable riders slipped forward, only a couple of which looked likely to trouble Ron for the girls’ prize. No one seemed particularly keen to stir things up, a couple of chancers gaining but a few yards before being reeled in and the status quo reset. The pace remained quite sedate, no real organisation, the front of the bunch just a wall of jerseys apparently without ambition.

Ron and I kept close and out of trouble, happy to let others do the graft, no point in wasting energy. Two laps completed and the slow pace ensured that pretty much the whole race was still together, a tadpole of riders squirming around the circuit.

“We staying here all day?” Ron enquired in English, our ‘secret tactic’ language.

“You want to stir things up a bit?”

“Don’t you? It’s like the kettle watching.”

Well I couldn’t argue with that, being in a bunch doing something is one thing, the apathy this morning was nothing if not frustrating.

“What you thinking?”

“Girly attack?”

I rolled my eyes, we’ve done it before, remember the Three Countries? It involves a bit of subterfuge but hey, all’s fair in getting a race advantage, I switched to German, “think my period’s starting.”

“You wanna drop out?” Ron played along.

“Think I’ll be okay, just don’t expect much eh? If this pace picks up I’m toast.”

By some of the either knowing or grossed out expressions around us, the gist of our conversation had been understood by enough of the opposition to give us a little lea way. I know it’s not exactly being honest but they largely think I’m a girl anyhow so it’s only stretching things a little.
 
 

The circuit doesn’t offer many opportunities in the five-kilometre lap to get away, a slower corner at the far end and a small rise before hitting the home straight. Being designed for motor sport ensures the circuit is well surfaced and wide, both useful if things get stirred up. We didn’t have to wait long, the pace being lifted, not enough to trouble Apollinaris but enough to stretch the elastic a bit for the less capable riders.

I made it as obvious as possible that I was dropping back, just as the instigators hoped, Roni meanwhile hanging in but looking a bit ‘distressed’ – I swear she could get a job on the stage! It didn’t take long to get towards the back of the forty strong main peloton, my computer was showing a steady thirty-two kph, not slow but hardly quick either. We finished another lap before Ron ‘blew’ and accelerated backwards towards my tail end position.

That didn’t go unnonoticed up ahead, the speed almost immediately starting to drop. Mistake, big mistake, chaps. I slipped out of the shelter and off to the right hand side of the circuit, Ron settling into my former position, we don’t want to give away too much do we? I held station opposite the bunch but behind the leaders through the outward leg then as on the previous laps the bunch slowed for the tighter exit of the chicane.

I of course kept the gas on, pedalling through the corner that took me swiftly alongside the leaders. Roni meanwhile used underbraking to quickly make up twenty places, her attack out of the corner clearly surprising everyone. Well almost everyone, I was out of mind on the other side of the tarmac already doing ten kph more than the bunch.

Ron angled across the roadway; we joined forces before we’d gone another hundred metres. You might recall we are quite good at time trialling, I’m World Champeen, so our now combined effort quickly gained us some road space. Behind us confusion reigned, the unexpected move causing a degree of panic which instead of a measured response resulted in twenty separate ways of dealing with the girlies!

We’d wanted to stir things up and we’d certainly accomplished that, by the time we returned to the start area the chasing riders were spread over a considerable distance, the elastic snapping for a double handful of unfortunates. The chase still wasn’t what you might call organised, with a dozen riders all wanting to take the lead no one of them could afford to take shelter. Our forty five kph couldn’t go on for ever, at the end of the day there are more of the chasers and it’s still over eleven laps.

Maddy Bell © 03.10.2014