Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

So you’ve watched a film with subtitles right? You miss a bit of the action reading the captions but it’s not the worst thing, at least you can sort of follow the plot – I get to do it with Anime quite a bit. But when the sound and subtitles are in different but equally understood languages it starts getting messy.

I’m sure Mand was ignoring the German text, just enjoying the English soundtrack and I think Max was following the text. Me though, well I was getting a bit brain-tied, flitting between visual and aural input. I think I lasted about thirty minutes before I gave up and just ignored both – well I’ve read the Douglas Adams book so I know the main points of the plot.

It was a bit awkward of course, it ended up with Max sat between me and Mand – not my ideal situation but he did pay for the tickets. To be fair to him, he didn’t try anything; well I let him hold my hand for a bit, which seemed to be well received. I’m not a fan of pop corn so I had a bag of Skittles™ while the others shared a huge pot of flavoured cardboard, talk about awkward!

Personally I think they botched the film a bit, Marvin didn’t look like I imagined and the main character in the book, Arthur Dent seemed to be less important in the film. I suppose if you haven’t read the book (well books, it’s a trilogy in five parts) you wouldn’t have my preconceptions but for me it was but a typically watered down version of the original. By the time the credits started to roll I was well ready to get out, I needed a wee thanks to the litre of Sprite™ I’d been nursing and the noises coming from two rows behind were distracting too.

“I enjoyed that,” Max advised as we made our way out.
“I’ve seen worse,” Mand told us.
“I prefer the book.”
“There’s a book?” Max queried.
“We’ve got a copy at home somewhere, you can borrow it if you want but it’s in English of course.”
“Er maybe sometime.”
“I need a wee, Mand?”
“Er okay.”
“I’ll ring Dad,” my wannabe beau suggested.

What happens in the ladies stays in the ladies; we had to queue so it was nearly ten minutes later before the pair of us found Max in the almost deserted foyer.

“Dad’ll be about thirty minutes he suggested we get a coffee or something.”
Well given the alternative was to stand out in the now quite frigid January night it seemed as good an idea as any.
“’Kay, it’s a bit of a hike to BK though.”
“There’s a place a couple of doors down, more of a kebap place really but you can sit in,” Max told us.
“What’re we waiting for, I’m starved.”
“You’ve just eaten half a ton of popcorn,” I pointed out as we made our way outside.
“Max had more than me.”
“Keep me out of it,” Max requested.
To be honest I was feeling a bit hollow, I only managed to grab a few biscuits before we left.

A couple of doors turned out to be a five-minute walk and despite my coat I was grateful to enter the warm and steamy interior of ‘Kebap Turkiye’.

“I’ll get them,” Max offered.
“You got the tickets, this is on me,” I interjected, I mean, fairs fair. “You want pommes or anything?”
“Er just coffee thanks, I’ll get some seats.”
That would be difficult – not! We weren’t the only ones in but apart from the noisy couple from the cinema, the rest, several Mediterranean types, were playing cards around a single table toward the back of the shop. Max left to claim a table leaving the better-looking part of the party to order.
“Plis?” the swarthy chap behind the counter enquired.
“Er three milk coffees please,” I turned to Mand, “what you eating?”
“Frikadel and chips? I’ll give you the money,” she started scrabbling for her purse
“We’ll sort it out in a bit,” I returned my attention to Achmed or whatever his name is, “um, can we get some food too?”
“For in?”
“Please,” the milk steamer interrupted my reply.

The food turned up remarkably quickly considering, Mand’s frikadel on a plate awash with pommes my lasagne with half a green grocer’s.
“Got enough there, Gabs?” Max chuckled.
“I wasn’t expecting this much,” I admitted as I poked at the greenery.
“You want some chips, Max?” Mand offered.
“Go on then, I’ll get a fork.”

A few of Mand’s chips evolved into half of my lasagne too, at least I didn’t feel so bad, I’d inadvertently fed our cinematic benefactor. We were a bit over half an hour when we headed back out into the cold but von Strechau senior was just pulling up outside the cinema so we didn’t have any more delay.

“Good film?”
“Not what I was expecting,” Max advised his father as he threaded us out of downtown Bad Neunahr.
“Good or bad?”
“Different.”
“What about, you girls, I hope my son behaved himself.”
“Apart from the lasagne,” I almost giggled.
“Should I ask?”

Of course, you missed that, lasagne wars. It started when we both made a stab for the same bit of tomato, before long it was a competition to see who could spear food off my plate without the other dislodging it. Mand stopped it getting too messy by using a frite to claim some of my sauce so introducing a new element to the fun.

“Best not,” Max told his dad.

I peered out of the car windscreen, I’ve no idea where we are, I fell asleep before we got to the autobahn only waking when Dad pulled into the services for fuel.
“Where are we?” an equally dopey de Vreen enquired.
“No idea,” I admitted.

Outside it was still not quite light, we set off at silly o’clock and it’s a little after eight now. Why? Well my cross season might not’ve gone to plan but Anita and Erika have been flying the Apollinaris flag with some success and today is the German Open Championships near Eisenach. If you don’t know where that is, well I had to look on a map, it’s sort of south east of Kassel although Dad said we were using a route past Frankfurt.

Dad opened his door and climbed inside, “Coffee?”
Well it’s been a while since breakfast, “And a bun?”
“If you want,” Dad agreed setting the car back in motion for the short distance from the Tankstelle to the restaurant.

The cold hit you as soon as the car door opened, I’m glad we’ve got waterproofs to put on when we get there, they’ll add some extra insulation. Mand ran across to the building, me in hot pursuit – first stop, you’ve guessed it, the lav’s. By the time the pair of us returned to the restaurant Dad had drinks and pastries organised and was heading towards a table.

“Ooo, not had one of these for ages,” I mentioned picking up my strawberry and custard Danish.
“The Pflaumkuchen looked a bit past its best,” Dad advised, “that okay, Mand?”
Mand had a chocolate croissant, “Mmmm.”
The coffee was strong and slightly bitter – even with three sugars but it certainly kick started the system.
“How much further, Mr B?” Mand asked as we sipped our hot beverages.
“About an hour on the motorway then it’s a short way to the course.”
“We meeting the girls there?” I asked.
“No, we’re going to their hotel, Carsten has the team bus so we’ll leave the car there and all go in the bus.”
Well I had wondered why we didn’t have the bus ourselves.
“No one else coming?” Mand enquired.
“George and Petra are with them, we should have plenty of bods to help in the pits.”
“Typical George,” I opined, “turns up for the glory.”
“He’d be a pretty poor boss if he didn’t,” Dad noted, “you two done?”

The hour was only fifty minutes and the hotel was only just off the motorway. The others were just finishing breakfast, we snaffled more coffee – we might not get a chance for a while, and went to join them.

“Morning everyone, sleep well?” Dad enquired.
“Not bad,” Anita allowed, “how is it out there?”
“Cold, there’s a bit of frost in places.”
“Might make the going a bit easier,” Erika offered, “it was pretty sticky yesterday.”
“You might need the spikes,” Carsten suggested.
“Spikes?” Mand asked.
“The ice tyres,” Erika explained, “they have metal studs to help grip.”
“We don’t use them much but it’s good to have them,” Anita added.
“We should make a move,” George suggested.

When the boss speaks – well we eventually gave up our seats and headed out to the bus.

“You okay, Gaby?” Petra asked plonking herself down opposite the seat I’d claimed, “not seen you for a while.”
“Er not too bad, you?”
“Pretty good, George keeps me busy.”
You might remember that Petra is the team masseuse but away from race days she’s the team gopher and George’s assistant.
“I’ll need to get you measured for the new kit.”
“Measured? I haven’t grown.”
“Not just you, Sintani are making everything to order for us, we’ll have some spare kit in standard sizes for emergencies but we’ll be their flagship advertising.”
“Kewl.”
“They’ll want some promo pics when we’ve got the kit, especially you and your mum.”
“The curse of the rainbow.”
“Eh?”
“That’s what Mum calls it, everyone wants a slice of the glory.”
“Well two Weltmeisterin in the team certainly helped to seal the deal with Sintani.”

The bus lurched over a speed hump that drew our attention to our surroundings, no not a speed hump but a curb that gave us access to the field being used for competitor’s vehicles. Cross is a bit Cinderella in Germany but even so the Open Championships draw a lot of riders who mostly ride their local leagues. Today they get the chance to rub shoulders with riders from across the Federation and the relatively few elite riders who are more often found riding in the Low Countries.

With typical German efficiency we were directed to our allocated parking, by only having one vehicle we’d have space – just, to put up the awning. Mand and I were set to helping Petra get stuff ready, Dad and Carsten loaded the washer and water containers onto the trolley before sorting out the bikes and George did his managerial bit with Anita and Erika.

There’s something about a bike race that I find intoxicating – all the supporters, the kit and enthusiasm, you just don’t get it quite the same in other sports. Although you all ride separately for the most part, you are part of a team that includes more than just your fellow riders who are all working towards success for the team. If I had to give up racing I think I’d still want to be involved somehow just to be part of things.

I’m not sure where the time went, one minute we were unloading the bus, the next we were making our way up to the course, a technical affair through the woodland and fields surrounding the Wartburg sat high above us. I might not be riding but the adrenalin was flowing, I was getting excited and – sugar where’s the toilets?

Maddy Bell 20.05.16