“Gabs, where are you?”

I looked at my watch, ten to five, oh bum, i’m supposed to be meeting Max to get the five o’clock train.

“Er, on my way?” I whispered back – well it is a library.
Max sighed down the phone line, “you’re not are you?”
“I lost track of time, sorry.”
“You want me to come and meet you?”
“No, i’ll come straight up, we can catch the half past?”
“Okay, meet you at the crossing.”
“tschuss!”

I'd already started packing my stuff up as I spoke to Max, I quickly shuffled the remaining stuff into a pile, shovelled it into my bag and, after dropping the papers and magazines in the returns bin, set off for the Lohr Centre. Its not a long journey, a thousand metres tops, but mix in crossing roads, dodging other pedestrians and having to divert around parked vehicles and a ten minute walk easily stretches to fifteen or more. I spotted Max across the final crossing and waved.

“Come on, we should just get it,” he suggested as I reached him.
“Bags of time, its only ten past,” I pointed out.
“The five o’clock is running late, come on.”

He grabbed my hand and pretty much dragged me through the shopping centre and out onto the platform, arriving just as the delayed train hissed to a halt.

“Come on you two!” Freddy called from along the platform.

A moment later, I was stuffed into the carriage amongst the other commuters.

“That was close,” I allowed.
“Didn’t think you were gonna make it,” Freddy opined.
“Me either,” Max agreed, “so what was so interesting in the library Gab?”
“Erm, business modeling?” I suggested.

Both lads just rolled their eyes.

 
“Good luck for the weekend,” Max told me after releasing his grip on my lips.
“Thanks, think i’m gonna need it.”
“What, the famous Rennraderin is nervous?”
“Realistic,” I stated, “there are some good riders coming through and the German squad isn’t that strong.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“We’ll see, I’d best go in, i’m not packed yet.”

We played another short bit of tonsil hockey before Max set off up to Rech and I headed into Chateaux Bond.

 
“There you are,” Dad greeted as I dropped my bag in the hall and kicked off my ballet flats.
“Here I am,” I agreed.
“You going for a ride?”
“I need to pack,” I pointed out.
“I was only going to suggest an hour or so, Manda’s already upstairs changing.”
“Okay, but i’m not cooking when I get back.”
“Your Mum’s got dinner in hand, so scoot.”

 
“Wish I was going,” Mand sighed as we rolled along through Esch.
“I wish you were going, all this political stuff really sucks.”
“Just make sure you bring a gong back.”
“I’ll do my best,” I assured her.
“As long as you beat the BC lot.”
“Yeah, I probably wouldn’t’ve got picked if I had been eligible.”
“Which really is stupid, don’t BC want to win?”
I gave a shrug, “Dad says they’re looking to do well on the track, more bang for their bucks.”
“You not fancy doing that? You were really good when we were doing it last year.”
“I prefer the fresh air, all that effort for a thirty second race, ut uh.”
“Those sessions I did with Roni last winter were pretty good, better than sat on the turbo.”

I couldn’t argue that, almost anything is more fun than turbo training.

“Beat you to Schönberg,” she went on to challenge.
“In your dreams de Vreen,” I replied as she sprinted ahead.

 
“Which terminal is it?” Mum asked as we approached Frankfurt airport the following morning.
“One,” I replied from the back seat, I’d been chanting the instructions in my head all the way down, terminal one, area B, Lufthansa check ins.
“You okay kiddo?” Dad queried.
“Yeah, I guess, wish you guys were coming.”
“Us too Gab,” Mum pointed out but of course with Mum not selected by BC and the German Federation running a stripped down team they’d have to pay their own way.
“You’ll be alright kiddo,” Dad told me.

 
Of course I’ve flown before, even from Frankfurt but nevertheless the sheer size of the place never ceases to amaze me. From the huge multistorey car park to the immense plaza of check in desks and more shops than Ahrweiler, it really is an experience. I watched as a succession of jets descended over the autobahn, my stomach bobbling with nervous anticipation.

We turned off and Dad soon had us squealing around the Terminal One car repository, how come all car parks make the tyres squeal like that? We’ve borrowed Hen Pinger’s Passat estate so we could get both bikes in, the A Klasse is too small and the Hymer – well where could we park that at the airport? Anyhow we were soon parked and the three of us set off for the terminal, each towing a bag, Mum and Dad my bikes, me my actual suitcase.

Try getting two bike boxes and the rest in one of those lifts – why did they make them so small? Anyhow we finally reached the terminal proper and after a short walk through the departure concourse arrived at the rendezvous point.

“Ah Dave, Gaby, you are here,” Frank Obermeyer greeted, “and the famous Jenny Bond.”
“That’s us,” Mum agreed.
“Well lets get this junge Mädel checked in eh?”

We followed him across to a check in desk where a clerk was waiting for us – no queuing for us.

“Where’re the others?” I asked.
“Annika has taken them through security, now you are here we are only waiting for Degenkolb and Martin.”
“And I thought we were late.”
“Ach, there is time yet,” Frank allowed before addressing the check in girl, “So Gabrielle Bond.”

I passed my little used German passport over before heaving my case onto the belt.

“One case and two bicycles?” the woman asked.
“Er yeah, my road bike and my time trial one.”
“This is the one I told you about,” Frank interrupted.
“Ah okay.” she tabbed away at her keyboard for seemingly ages before the printer started chattering away producing labels and so on.

My case disappeared out of sight followed, after Dad heaved each bike box onto the belt, my steeds for the battle ahead.

“Have a good flight and good luck in the races,” the girl mentioned as she returned my passport along with the boarding card.
“Thanks,” I allowed in return.

“You want us to take her through to security?” Dad offered when I returned with Frank to where my parents were waiting.
“That would be useful Dave, its Gate sixteen when you get through Gaby, you should see the others somewhere there.”
“Gate sixteen,” I repeated.

And so the three of us headed towards security.

 
Mum hugged me tightly, “just do your best daughter.”
“It’s gonna be weird without you guys.”
“We’ll be watching,” Dad told me, “Eurosport are covering everything this year.”
I sighed, “hardly the same though.”
“You’ll be fine kiddo,” Mum stated, “bring us back another gong for the cabinet eh.”
“I’ll try.”
“Jen?” Dad mentioned.
She drew a breath, “sorry Gab, no pressure right, just enjoy the racing, if it happens it happens and remember, winners...”
I interrupted, “don’t look back, I know.”
“Come on you two, lets get you away kiddo,” Dad suggested.

I gave the Rents a last wave and followed the flow of passengers into the bowels of the departure area.

 
I guess a lot of you have done this stuff, the security and immigration before you are finally allowed into the Gate area. Today it wasn’t too bad, minimal undressing at the former and an almost cursory glance at the passport of Bond, Gabrielle Andrea before I emerged into the last element of containment before reaching the plane. I looked around for direction, gate sixteen, ah down past the coffee bar.

“Bond, over here!”

I looked about and finally spotted the hailer and headed over.

“Heya,” I allowed when I reached the small group sprawled around a couple of tables.
“Thought you’d dipped on us,” Tal suggested.
“As if, hi Paul.”
“Hi Gab, everyone, this is the famous Bond Mädel.”
I rolled my eyes, “hi Iz.”
“Heya.”
“Hi Gaby, Annika,” the other occupant of the seats advised offering a hand.
“Um hi,” I returned shaking her hand.
“You want a coffee or something?”
“She’ll have a Cappucino,” Tal opined.
“It’ll do,” I agreed.

“So this everyone?” I asked after Annika left to fetch my coffee.
“Yup,” Paul agreed, “the mechanic and girls manager flew out yesterday.”
“We get our own manager?”
“Don’t get too excited Gab, this is hardly the British team,” Tal noted.
“The others behind you?” Isolde asked.
“Frank was waiting for them when I came through,” I told them as I found a seat amongst the bags and jackets.
“Tony’s always late, he missed the start a couple of weeks ago in Dresden,” Paul advised.
“You been to Canada before Gab?” Izzy enquired.
“Not Canada, we had a school exchange to Virginia when I lived in England.”
“Cool, we had a week in Sweden,” Paul told us.
Tal tugged at my arm, “looks like the others are here.”

We looked down the concourse and easily spotted Frank and the two lads heading towards us. Paul waved and they changed direction to join us.

 
Loading a big trans Atlantic jet can take some time but Lufthansa are apparently sponsoring the team so we were some of the first to board, not as I thought in coach but in First. Wow, we had a block of seats together on the left side, I bagged a window and spent the next five minutes sorting out reading matter, sweets and so on – well ten hours is a long time to be on a plane. Tal and Izzy shared the row with me and of course we had to test out all the features of the seats.

Eventually though the crew started preparing for our departure, lockers were closed, seat belts checked and garbled instructions came from the flight deck. The engines thrummed as we left the gate, I watched as we trundled through the infield – somewhere across there Mum and Dad will be watching our departure. It seemed to take an age to taxi to the end of the runway, then the engines changed tone and a moment later we were hurtling along the tarmac.

 
Maddy Bell © 08.10.2018