Had an interesting experience today.

It being a surprisingly sunny and warm Sunday morning, I phoned the cycle club and confirmed the destination for the club ride. Being the slowest rider in the regular riders I agreed to go out early and make my own way to the café because I'm still struggling with fitness after missing Jan and Feb with nursing my dad-in-law.

Well I left home very early and I arrived at eleven after choosing my own circuitous route, bought my coffee and Welsh cakes and settled down on the outside tables to enjoy the glorious sunshine. The club were going to be arriving in 'dribs and drabs' because so many had turned out on such a glorious morning. They had divided into three groups and all arranged to rendezvous at or around 1130 so I had half an hour to kill.

As is usual when I cycle alone, I usually go out in rather feminine mode wearing girly Lycra that includes a white short-sleeve top with pink flowers, a push up bra to stop my boobs from chafing and pretty purple, Lycra Capri-pants. Naturally I'm not wearing make-up so there is absolutely no chance of my 'passing'.

I have removed my club jacket because it is quite warm and it's draped over the handlebars of my bike locked to the railings.

Well I'm sitting, minding my own business at Dame Patti's castle and watching the ducks getting amorous on the pond whilst sipping my coffee and nibbling my Welsh-cakes. However there's this somewhat attractive lady about thirty-ish in Hiking boots and she's quite tall who keeps looking at me but not showing any expression and not saying anything, not even 'good-morning'. We are the only two people eating outside at that stage and we are seated at different adjoining tables. After catching her looking at me she, realises I have clocked her checking my boobs but I just turn away and continue watching the ducks. I know she's looking at me but what do I care?

Eventually I hear voices coming through the gates and the rattle of bike wheels on the 'cattle-grid' tells me some of the club have arrived. They immediately come over and plonk all their helmets on my and the adjoining tables then order their coffees and whatever. After the usual exclamations of pleasure at seeing me they settle down to chatting and soon a happy friendly atmosphere is enveloping us all. The conversation is mostly about who's come riding, who's crashed, who's injured etc, etc. Then they ask me how the fitness is coming and I dwell briefly on my slow progress. Inevitably my friend Selwyn asks if I had a good weekend. I tell him I haven't been out and that I'll not be going clubbing again until early June.

"Oh, so we'll be seeing you down the cycle club on the next two Fridays."

I nod then he asks if I can do some marshalling for the President's race and I agree.

"Good," says he. "It'll be nice having you there."

Well the banter carries on and one thing leads to another, until another comment is asked of my fitness by a lady who has not been out riding all winter.

"How come you're not getting fitter, if you've been riding again since March Bev?"

"Oh one thing and another," I explain, "I'll never put on the muscle to keep up with the boys."
She frowns and quickly makes some connection between my obviously feminine appearance and my prominent boobs. I don't have the usual 'whip-chord' legs of a male cyclist.

"So why's that Bev?" She asks.

Now all the regular crowd know of my condition and it's long ceased to be even a matter of comment. Bev's got boobs and a cleavage and he's some sort of tranny; so what? Rain's wet, the sky's blue; ... end of. But this lady is one of about six newcomers who have only resumed coming out now that Summer seems to have arrived. She knows nothing about Beverly except for the occasional remark she's heard in the club.

Naturally I hesitate and Glance at Selwyn who's the club Vice captain and we both glance at Spot who is the Club captain and ride leader for the middle crowd that morning. He nods, shrugs his shoulders and resumes sipping his coffee. So I tell her quite openly that I'm an intergendered transvestite who takes hormones and the female hormones prevent me from developing male muscles and stamina.

Naturally, she and the other newcomers are curious so I explain a little further then to our surprise the tall, attractive hiking lady introduces herself.

"Excuse me, I couldn't help overhearing your remarks, are you Beverly, Beverly Taff and a friend of Mandy's."

I pause uncertainly wondering how this woman knew my friend's tranny name. Mandy has begun living in the role prior to any decisions regarding transitioning, but she's still living with her wife and children as X--- and she's only known as X--- in the town, nobody knows of her wild club scene life and I'm not about to reveal anything. However, this woman obviously knows Mandy because she goes on to explain that she's Mandy's therapist. For a moment I'm shocked that a so called doctor would reveal such confidential information but then I realise nobody knows my friend as Mandy. It's her secret clubbing name.

Consequently this lady psychiatrist has, all importantly, not divulged any confidential stuff. She asks again if I am Beverly, Mandy's cycling friend. My mind is still racing but Selwyn steps in protectively and furthermore he uses the FEMALE pronoun.

"What if she is Beverly, so what?"

The lady realises that she might have overstepped the mark at least in such a public arena but I simply shrug and follow Selwyn's remark.

"Yes. I am, why do you ask?"

She apologises for being so forward then turns to the boys who are all watching her like a hawk.

"And you cycle in that outfit. I'm impressed."

By now I can sense some of the regulars getting somewhat defensive as once again Selwyn intervenes.

"What if she does?"

She realises she is treading on thin ice but she is after-all a seemingly single woman and we as a group of twenty cyclists could hardly behave overbearingly. She goes on to explain.

"I am impressed that you find acceptance amongst your colleagues."

"Why shouldn't I?"

Once again Selwyn steps in.

"Listen miss, this is a cycling club, everybody here is a cyclist from 'Tank' who is a semi-professional to Bev who is our slowest regular rider. We accept anybody who rides a bike."

The woman replied.

"That's what I mean, I'm impressed."

She went on to briefly applaud the club and explain how she worked as a psychiatrist who invariably had to deal with the problems that TS people had to deal with. She said it was a breath of fresh air to see acceptance in the club.

At these words I remark.

"I love this club, they don't judge and they don't discriminate and yes, I am the slowest regular rider."

Les the secretary grins and says "Thanks Bev. Will you be marshalling in the President's race?"

I nod then Spot, the captain and ever quick to spot a potential new member asks the psychiatrist.

"If you like our club, why don't you come cycling with us? You look like an active person and we need a club doctor."

"Well ain't that the truth!" I laugh because just before the conversation came around to my gender issues, the members had been lamenting the injuries that had hit the club. In the last week Selwyn had cracked two ribs and damaged some ligaments to his scapula; Spot had dislocated his Elbow while Tank had gone head over handle-bars whilst training at speed.

The lady actually smiled and intimated that she might be interested so we wait hopefully cos' truthfully, we do need a bloody doctor on our rides, there's some mad buggers in the club. Mad but decent. I can vouch for that.