Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

“It’s not washing out very quick,” I mentioned, pulling a lock of my hair into view for inspection.
“You sure it washes out?” Nena queried.
“Mum said so, it’s only supposed to last like six washes.”
“What’s the panic? You look cute as a brunette,” Steff opined, “specially like you had it Sunday.”

Grrr – the C word! I. AM. NOT. CUTE!

“I just said, it’s the team presentation at the weekend.”
“What’s your hair got to do with that?” Bridget asked.
“Photo’s?” I prompted.
“What about them?” Pia enquired.
“Ooooooo!” They just don’t get it!
“Come on,” Con suggested, “we’ll be late.”

Several hours later I collapsed in front of my computer, what a day. German grammar, another geography test, I got put through the mill by Herr Ansbacher in my tutor session and then, well my nose started bleeding half way through training. Not a day I want to savour. The machine eventually burbled into life and hit the browser button.

An icon flashed up – woo, I’ve got mail. I clicked the link and it opened.

Hi Gab
It’s done, Mart is officially Drea’s Dad! We went to the big office in Nottingham, they never batted an eye. So now I can get the other forms sent off, hopefully that’ll get the cow from SS off our backs – she’s been four times since I got back.
Mart says you changed your hair, send us a pic?
Ciao
B & D

She doesn’t let the grass grow does she? I still can’t believe her and Mart are engaged even if no one else knows yet, I’ve said before, I can’t imagine making that sort of commitment like ever. Urgh, weddings and babies let alone making babies, it’s bad enough that I have the equipment, natural? Not for me it’s not.

I quickly put together a reply – without a picture, this hair is doing my head in now, what was I thinking?

“You could always dye it,” Mand suggested as I inspected my locks yet again for signs of blondness.
“But I don’t want it brown.”
“Who said anything about brown,” she waggled a clump of her own hair at me, although not her natural shade it’s not the albino white it was in Switzerland.
“So I dye my blonde hair er blonde?”
“It wouldn’t be brown,” she pointed out.
“I guess,” I allowed.
“Don’t know why you’re so worked up with it.”
“Team photos?”
“And?”
“If my hair’s brown I won’t look like me.”
“Why, you wearing a mask too?”
“Don’t be daft, you know what I mean.”
“It’ll still be you.”

She just doesn’t get it, hmm; maybe dyeing it blonde’s not such a bad idea.

“See you on Sunday, Gab,” Max called over as I collected my stuff when Friday’s classes ended.

The week since Wednesday, well the two days have been less stressful. I got 83% in the German test which was better than Con did and my hair, well it’s still not back to normal but it’s a lot lighter than it was.

“Sunday?”
“Your team thing.”
“Why would I see you at that?”
He rolled his eyes, “It’s at my place.”
“It is?”
“We’re doing food and stuff, they’re putting up a festzelt today. So I’ll see you then?”
“Er yeah, er Sunday.”

“How comes the presentation is at Max’s? You never said,” I asked Dad when I found him in the garage later.
“Didn’t I? We thought it would have a bit more character than the Kursaal, Apollinaris have stumped up for Willie to cater – should be quite a do.”
“’Kay,” I allowed, “So what’re you up to?”
“Clearing some space, we need somewhere to put your new bikes.”

I surveyed the rack of machines, two of Mand’s, four of mine and two of Mum’s. It doesn’t sound much but there’s the tandem, three mountain bikes, two of Mum’s old race bikes, another of mine plus Jules’ and Dad’s in the store room along with a bunch of wheels and other stuff. Oh yeah, my Schauff is stood in a corner too next to the little used Gazelle the Rents got for Mand to use. Whichever way you look at it, that’s a lot of bikes.

“There’s not room for six,” I pointed out.
“Six?”
“Well two bikes each, you said we get a race bike and a training bike.”
“You do but we’ll keep the race bikes down at the bottling plant so it’s only three. If we put some of these next door we’ll have plenty of room, I’ll get them down if you can wheel them through I’ll hang them later, I suppose you’re looking for a lift?”
“Er Mum said she’d take me, so yeah a lift would be good.”
“Her driving’s not that bad,” he suggested.
“You kidding? I think she learnt from Michael Schumacher.”
Dad chuckled, “Come on then, let’s get these moved and I’ll take you up.”

“It’ll be good to see the others,” Mand noted as we started the climb out of Ahrweiler.
“Uh huh,” I agreed concentrating on my pedal stroke.
We’d agreed on a reverse direction of the circuit we did the other week around Engel, you remember, we kicked those weekenders’ butts on the climb.
“Not seen Josh since the Worlds.”
“Not seen the others since Kassel,” I noted.
“That sounds so weird,” Mand opined, “this time last year I’d never been anywhere foreign other than Spain, I hadn’t even heard of Kassel and here we are riding around Germany like it’s normal.”
“Well it is.”
“No it’s not, the kids at school, well they live here but they aren’t charging all round the country.”
“I guess not,” I allowed. My friends don’t either, “I suppose we do have a strange life.”
“Not that I’m complaining,” Mand put in.

A kick in the gradient halted conversation, our energies diverted to moving upward towards Ramersbach. My thoughts were turned inward; I can’t remember a time when we, the Bonds, weren’t haring all around the place. Probably when Jules and me were little but certainly since I was at junior school we’ve been going to races, firstly for Mum then I joined in almost as soon as I could.

“Wonder what the bikes are gonna be like?” Mand mused once we’d crested the climb.
“New,” I suggested.
“Duh! You know what I mean.”
“Bit like the Bianchi’s we had in Japan I guess.”
“I suppose, hope they aren’t pink.”
“Can you imagine Josh riding a pink bike?” I giggled.
“Or pink jerseys,” Mand added.
“You don’t think they’ll change the strip do you?” I hadn’t even thought of that, I’ve become quite attached to the cream and blue.
“Shouldn’t think so, everyone knows it.”

The biggest problem going this way around the circuit is the number of left turns, okay it’s not a ride breaker but can be a bit annoying. In fact there was so much traffic at the first Engeln turn that we kept going to the second where the view up the road was better. It also meant we avoided that crappy road surface on the climb; the main road is at least half decent.

Going this way round it’s theoretically downhill from here to Singen, there are a few little blips but not much. On the other hand, apart from the first couple of K there isn’t much gradient and today, dry and bright as it is, we have a headwind to contend with. Nothing like a fight into something you can’t see to focus your energies.

Of course the good thing with that is that the last few kilometres back home should have a tailwind. We resorted to a rotation to keep up a decent pace, suffice to say we were quite warm come the bottom of the Brohltal. A bit of local knowledge avoided the main junction but we still ended up having to stop to get onto the main road north.

“Do you think they’re here yet?” Mand asked as we turned onto the Singen road a few kilometres further on.
“Dunno, I reckon so.”
“They driving?”
“Dunno, it’s quite a way to Gret’s place from here, it’d take a whole day, I think we’re closer to London.”
“I forget how big Germany is,” Mand admitted.
“Yeah,” I agreed.

The promised tailwind never really gave a comparable degree of assistance to the hindrance we’d incurred. We passed the Apollinaris yard, we both strained to see our team mates – futile of course, even if they were there they’d be inside. A few minutes more and we were home.

“Dad said can you go down to Apollinaris, Mand,” Jules told us when we got upstairs.
“Now?”
“Soon as I guess.”
“Could’ve stopped on the way up,” I opined.
“Think he wants her clean not smelly,” my sister suggested.
“How do I get there then?” Mand queried.
“I’ll give you a lift,” Jules suggested, she still has the Mofa even if it doesn’t get much use.
“Er okay, cheers.”
“I’d best get ready for work,” I sighed, hey maybe I can ‘borrow’ it after my birthday, be ace for getting up to the Tanzklub!

“What’re you so fed up about?” Con asked an hour or so later.
“Everyone else is down at Apollinaris getting their new kit.”
“But you are getting some?”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“Well what’s the problem then?”
“Well…” to be honest, none, it’s just, well you know.
“And won’t yours have the stripes on too?”
“Only my skinsuit.”
“But it’s special yeah? The others will be jealous of you.”
Will they? Is that true; do they even like me? I’m sure Ron does – and Josh but the others.
“Course they’re not.”
“Just saying.”
“We’re friends.”
“Doesn’t mean they can’t be jealous,” she pointed out.

Maybe she has a point.

Maddy Bell 10.06.16