*Chapter 10*
Wheel Barugh

"This is nice,” Ron mentioned lying back onto the bank.
"Hmm,” I agreed taking a lick of my ice cream.

Of course last time I was here it was a family holiday, the rents always included stuff like castles in the entertainment. Not that Dad minded of course, we’ve been all over, I guess a lot of places other kids don’t get. With the rents a castle visit was ‘educational’. Today though, well after a quick poke about we’ve just chilled in the sun eating our Magnums®.

Except for Josh and Tali, not sure where they are but two guesses what they’re doing and its not studying thirteenth century Norman architecture!

"What you thinking Gabs?” Gret enquired from behind me.
"Bet I know,” Mand opined returning from the facilities.
"Oh?” Gret queried.
"I'm betting its got something to do with her bit of totty.”
"Gab?”
"Might be,” I allowed.

No might about it, of course I've got Max on my mind, this bank is at the ideal angle for making out! Mand seems in a better mood today, she’s actually been more talkative, certainly not the sullen moo we’ve had all week.

"We doing the shops?” Tali’s voice asked.
"Where you guys been?” Ron asked.
"Ah was showing Tal tha inner bailey like.”
"It was very interesting,” Tal supplied.
"That’s what you call it now is it?” Mand teased.
"I ‘spose we’d best make a move,” I allowed before giving my lolly stick a last lick.

Lets be clear, Pickering is hardly the retail metropolis of say York or even Scarborough so a mooch around the shops isn’t a long job. I located one of those boxes of ‘Yorkshire’ fudge with a postcard of Pickering stuck on the front for Con and a Gromit figurine for Max, yeah I know, a real taste of Yorkshire! The other German’s arrived back at our transport clutching assorted gifts for friends and family back home, Mand and Josh not participating beyond making stupid suggestions.

"Looks like we’ve beaten the olds.” Ron suggested.
"Only just,” Gret mentioned indicating the approaching group of adults coming from the tea room in the car park.
"Ready?” Dad greeted as they joined us.
"Not really,” I allowed with a yawn.
"Well we’d best wake you up then,” he stated opening the Hymer’s door.

It was literally ten minutes later that we arrived at the village hall in Little Barugh, event headquarters for this evening. We weren’t the first to arrive but there was plenty of space to commandeer for Apollinaris HQ. Once the camper was parked Dad borrowed the Sharan and we all squeezed inside for the course re-con.

Its not a long course, eleven kilometres of quite technical Ryedale lanes with a mix of surfaces from tar and chip to cow poop. We stopped a couple of times to inspect the road and discuss the best line, hey this is serious stuff! There were a couple of people sweeping the corners - it wouldn’t be perfect but they were clearly keen to make it as safe as possible.

Eleven kilometres, a bit shy of seven miles, we should be aiming at sub fifteen minutes. Its pretty flat and the roads are reasonably wide between, for the most part high hedges. Its looking like near perfect conditions, my mind at least is now focussed on racing. By the time we got back, the HQ was somewhat busier and we had to park the Sharan on the playing field – no real hardship as its not going anywhere until after the event.

“Dave! Guys, good to see you all,” Steve greeted us as we headed towards the hall to sign on.
"Steve, good to see you,” Dad shook his hand, "Thanks for sorting everything.”
"Well Caroline did most of it,” he admitted.
"She around,” I asked.
"She’s staying at home tonight, joining the fun in the morning Gaby.”
"Oh.”
"Anyway its me should be thanking you Dave, you’ve gone beyond organising the German stay.”
"Thank me later,” Dad grinned.
"Well lets get you lot signed on, bikes been checked?”
"Bugger,” Dad allowed, "I forgot we needed that tonight, be right back.”

Dad dashed off but returned moments later trailing Darren, one of the BC mechanics who went to Switzerland with us last year.

"That was quick,” Steve noted.
“Darren beat me to it.”
"Hi everyone, I saw Dieter is it? setting up your bikes, as we’re sort of team mates, I took them for checking as he got them ready.” he brandished a handful of raffle tickets.
"What’s this?” Ron enquired in my ear.
"Bike check, you can’t sign on without the ticket here.” I advised.

Its not that the bikes aren’t checked back home but its taken on trust rather than having to get a voucher – Dad and Dieter usually do it while we’re getting ready. With the tickets we headed for the signing table, Steve acting as liaison – our assorted of German and UK international licences causing some consternation.

"Last off,” I moaned as I pinned my number onto my skinsuit.
“You are the Weltmeisterin,” Tal pointed out.
"But still.”
"Coulda been worse like,” Josh mentioned, "Ah’ve got that Bradley kid starting behind me, ma uncle says he’s quite handy at testing like.”
"Worried English?” Gret teased.
"Be daft Deutscher girl.”
"Guys!” Dad called us to order, "Lets get these bikes set up, you can argue afterwards.”

The bikes were nothing if not spectacular. Carbon fibre of course, ultra short wheelbase and a really low cockpit. there’s no doubting that the Montello looks the bee’s, especially shod with the Campag Ghibli discs in the back. The team colours really look good too – the Telekom one they had in Radsport a few weeks back looks pretty drab by comparison.

Dad’s building and set up was pretty much spot on, the old TT bikes aren’t that different so it was mostly fine tuning. We were of course attracting some attention, our camper, the Easy up, our speaking German – yeah we’re the exotics alright! Whilst anyone, in theory could enter, the field is mostly made up of club teams supplemented by a couple of divisional teams and of course the BC squad, not mixed like us but all lads.

With our rather girl centric team, as far as I could tell we were supplying more than fifty percent of the female participants, the others all solo entries from the Yorkshire region. The circuit was closed to traffic and already the PA was bleating out on the road, they were certainly making an effort.

"Ow!”
"Well sit still then,” Angela pointed suggested.

She continued tugging at my hair for another couple of minutes.

"That should do it.”

I looked in the mirror, she’s tightly braided my locks, much tighter than I can ever get it, but the net result is it’ll all be under my aero lid.

"Cheers.”
"Go show ‘em how its done eh?”
"There chocolate cake?” I queried with a grin.
"Get on with you!”

I preened a bit longer, I don’t get much chance to wear my rainbow bands in a race and well, I don’t really need an excuse! I was a bit nervous mind, the elastoplasts over my nips are all I'm wearing under the skinsuit, look okay, I'm a narcissist! I checked my lid again and climbed back outside where Dad was polishing the Montello.

‘And here she is, the current junior world time trial champion, riding for Team Apollinaris, Gabrielle Bond!’

The crowd cheered and clapped in that somewhat reserved British way as I settled myself onto my new Italian speed machine.

"Ten,” the starter advised, “five, four, three, two, one, go!”

Already standing, I heaved on the bars and set myself into forward motion, the onlookers cheering me away.

I quickly sat back down and settled onto the tri bars, it seemed mere seconds to the first corner, I set myself up wide and to a few spectator cheers accelerated out of the turn. It takes some concentration to keep the breathing level, to keep the effort even and I'm pretty good at it. A whistle sounded and I was on the second turn.

Left foot up, dab the brakes, hit the in turn point, pedal. All the road was used, and with the temporarily closed road I stayed on the right to turn three which I was able to pedal through full gas. This leg is the longest of the circuit, essentially a long curve, I clocked into the twelve and pushed all the harder. Come on Gab, you can do it.

My minute person, well two minute actually, they’ve started the ‘stars’ at two minute intervals, came back at me like a ball on elastic and I shot smoothly past. The fog started to descend as I approached village four which provides the last turn. It was a wide junction that once again I was able to pedal through, time to engage full boost.

I kept focus on my breathing, the only bit of me moving my rotating legs, the breeze of my passing reacting not so well with my er, bits. Another whistle, the finish banner seemingly coming too soon.

‘And here she comes, showing us just why she’s wearing those bands, just look at this time! Come on give her a cheer!’

I made a show of standing for the last few metres before collapsing back down and freewheeling towards the HQ.

‘Welcome everyone to the Ryedale Junior three day race, sponsored for a second year by P&O North Sea Ferries and Ryedale District Council. So we’ve started off this evening with an exciting prologue on closed roads, thank you Ryedale for that.’ the MC enthused.

I tuned him out and fiddled nervously with a braid, what I really want to do is get cleaned up and fed, its been a long time since lunch – ice cream and a fig bar don’t really cut it! At least I managed to get something a bit less, er, revealing on for the presentation – well my world champ tracky top and baggies over the skinsuit. A hand waved at me, not that I could see who it was but I gave a smile anyhow.

‘So having blown everyone else away this evening with a master-class in time trialling, with a time of thirteen minutes eleven seconds, that's just over thirty one miles an hour folks, our first leaders jersey goes to Gabrielle Bond, Team Apollinaris!’

The assembled crowd of riders and supporters were quite vocal in their cheering as I made my way up onto the small stage. I hammed things up, with a very girly double handed wave and joined the MC.

"So Gabrielle, very impressive ride around our lanes, how did you find it?”
He held the microphone for me to reply, "Well it was a good evening, the bike felt good, I felt good, perfect storm.”
"Some of you will remember we had the senior race here a few weeks ago, young Bond here was faster here tonight than any of the men then.”

There was more clapping and cheering.

"So what do you think of your chances tomorrow?”
"Guess we’ll find out tomorrow, we’ve got a jersey to defend now so we’re expecting to see some action from the home teams. But we’re used to being marked back home.”
"What advice has your mum given you for this weekend? for those not in the know young Bond’s mother is double World champion, Jenny Bond.”
"Nothing really, just enjoy myself.”
"And did you?”
"I guess.”
"Well I won’t embarrass you any further Gabrielle, we can see your hair is already blushing, so Josie, can you do the honours please.”

What was that about? Anyhow a woman about Mums age came out and I was ceremonially jerseyed – one day I'll get to wear team strip in more than a chipper!
 

Maddy Bell © 24.04.17