Gaby Book 18 - Summery

 
“Find yourselves some togs,” Dad instructed as he let us into the store room, “not the new stuff, there’s a box of shoes at the far end. I'll sort you some helmets out.”
“Damn, I was gonna score one of those gilets Mum’s got.”
“Be nice,” Pater stated before leaving us in kit heaven.

I guess most teams have something similar, spare race kit, bits of battle scarred clothing, still serviceable but not for front-line use and old kit from previous years. Most old stuff of course is kept by the riders or sold off but inevitably some bits get left on the shelf.

“You look for togs, I'll find us some shoes.”
“Okay,” Mand agreed before hitting the first box of jerseys.

I’ve no idea where the shoes came from, shoes are usually the riders responsibility although some teams do have shoe deals. There was a right mix of stuff, pairs held together by lacky bands, some with cleats, others not. First thing of course was to find some the right sizes, my thirty seven and Mand's thirty nine – I set too on the job.

“What about this?” Mand suggested a few minutes later.
“Ew!” goodness knows where the pink and green monstrosity came from but it was awful. “I hope that's not the choice?”
“Nah, I've found the stuff from Japan, bibs and shirts.”
“I wondered what happened to that stuff.”
“I can probably work out which are ours.”
“They’ve likely got names on the labels,” I guessed.
“How’re the shoes going?”
“Found some Spesh for you, not found any in my size yet, oh hang on, what about these?”

I held up my prize, a pair of Sidi’s, bright yellow with those dial lace things that came out a couple of years ago.

“Nice, I'd check the fit though, Sidi can be a bit narrow. Chuck us mine.”

“Dad!” I called out into the shed.
“Workshop,” he called back.

I trotted over clutching my share of the kit plunder.

“Ah, you’ve got yourselves sorted.”
“Er almost, um underwear?”
“You don’t wear any under your shorts,” he pointed out.
“Duh, Daddy! Not knickers, up top?”

The look on his face was classic!

“Right, bra, you can’t wear what you have on?”
“Hardly!” well we could but like they wouldn’t be very comfortable.
“So what do you suggest?”
“Well,” I started, “the seniors get them supplied, there’s some new ones in the store.”
“I knew this was gonna cost me, alright but I need the packaging so I square it with George.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” I beamed before giving him a daughterly kiss.

“When you’re quite done, Gaby,” Dad intoned as we gathered in the yard a few minutes later.

Okay, I had been fiddling with my bosom, trying to get things just so.

“Erm soz.”
“Right, I'll follow in the bus so we can do a one way run.”
“Where to?” Manda asked.
“Well I think if we go along to Andernach then across to Mayen you’ll get a good workout.”
“Urgh, that drag under the autobahn,” I moaned, “so what’re we doing for dinner?”
“I suppose we can eat out.”
“Yes! Pizza?”
“We’ll see.”
“What about our togs?” Mand addressed the elephant.
“You two get off, I'll get your stuff and catch you up, it’s all in the changing room?”
“Uh huh.”
“Right, off with you.”

We’ve done variations of this route before but usually as part of a circuit. Of course down to Andernach it’s along the Rhein but from there it gets a bit bumpy crossing over to Mayen, nothing too steep but some of the climbs are a bit draggy. We set off, from the depot it’s better on a bike to head over to the Sinzig lane from near the bahnhof, but soon enough we were tootling along the Rhein valley.

We were nearly at Breisig ferry before a couple of toots alerted us to Dad’s having caught up to us. My comp was showing a fairly constant thirty kph, not race pace but not hanging about. Dad was effectively holding off the traffic from behind so we’re in a sort of traffic free bubble although one idiot did cut right across us after passing the bus.

“So what's really been going on, all you two said earlier was there’d been an incident with the crane.”

To be honest I'd sort of forgotten why we’d been raiding the kit cupboard and starting our ride from the bottling plant.

“Why’d the crane fall over?”
“They think a cement mixer reversed into or something which made it over balance.”
“And the crane man was in it?”
“When it crashed, yeah.”
“Urgh, horrible.”
“It was dead lucky no one else got badly hurt.”
“Yeah,” Mand agreed, “so why couldn’t we go home?”
“Dad said they’re still clearing up, the Polizei have the road closed off.”
“Right, sign!”

You moo de Vreen! I had to change down before giving chase for the Brohl sign, I didn’t really have much chance given the barely hundred metres to said sign but I did make up some of the distance.

“That was cheating,” I bleated when I caught back up to her.
“Was not,” she stated wetting a finger and drawing a line in the air.

If it’s gonna be like that.

“Just you wait.”
“I'm all freickled, so can we go home later?”
“Dunno, possibly.”
“Hope so, there’s some stuff I need for school tomorrow.”

Tomorrow, hey I can go to cheer practice, it was my idea and I've not been yet what with one thing or another.

I got the Andernach sign, she can’t match me in a straight sprint and I was ready for her trickery this time. On a bike it’s safer, well compulsory to go along the waterfront rather than use the ‘new’ bypass but that means you get caught in the traffic and the grotty roads past the town. I say past, you don’t actually go into the walled old town at all, it’s rare we stop here at all, it’s nice enough but not exactly shopping central although they have a nice little Weihnachtsmarkt.

We followed the Mayen sign which took us through the newish industrial zone before linking with the actual Mayen road and the drag to the autobahn. It really is a drag, almost ten K of up gradually ramping up to the motorway. Dad shouted for us to do through and off, by the top we were both ‘glowing’ somewhat and panting hard.

“Phew! That's a toughie.”
“It is when you’re pushing on.”
“Is it like this on Sunday?”
“Not that I remember, it’s much flatter.”

Or is it? Maybe it’s not so high but I seem to remember the climbs are mostly long drags.

“Oh well, how far is it now?”
“Dunno, fifteen K?”

Rather than keep the fast rotation we started a less structured turnabout, essentially I took us up hill, Mand broke the air on the downslopes. Mayen came into view, easily identified by its twisted spire, bit like a German Chesterfield. Journeys end, we stayed out of the town to avoid all the traffic lights only turning in at the bottom of the town finally coming to a rest outside the main railway station.

Dad pulled up next to us.

“Good ride, ladies, get yourselves inside then we can find somewhere to eat.”

Food, oh yeah! Dad soon had the bikes inside and we were off again, out of the drop off zone.

“So any ideas where we can eat?” Dad enquired as we waited to join the evening traffic.
“There’re some places at the bottom of the town,” I volunteered.
“Okay, I'll find somewhere to park then you can change before we eat, wash kits in the back somewhere.”
“Got it!” Mand stated waving the prize.

A shower is what I really need but I guess a wash down is better than nothing, I've got some body spray in my bag, make me a bit less whiffy.

Dad soon had us parked on a side street, a quick drawing of curtains shielded us from prying eyes, the pair of us doing a quick strip, wash and dress in the gloomy interior. Pater meanwhile was outside, I could hear him on the phone but not what was being said.

“Ready yet?” he enquired cracking the passenger door just enough to allow conversation.
“Not finished but decent,” I advised.
“Leave the curtains, don’t want to tempt fate with the bikes.”
“’Kay. So what’s the news?”
“Well we can get home but not onto the drive, they’ve still got that fenced off apparently.”
“What for?”
“The crane driver, he died this afternoon, I guess they need to do more investigation stuff.”
“Poor man,” I allowed.
“But we can get in the house?” Mand queried.
“We can get in the house,” he confirmed, “now then, who wants to eat? There’s an Italian place a few doors down.”

The biggest problem with Italian restaurants is deciding what to have, oh I know I said pizza earlier but this place, Ristorante el Diablo, has like thirty different pizzas! Of course I could be boring and have the usual but some of these are well tempting. Dad got my attention.

“Double pepperoni I guess?”
“Does she ever have anything else?” Mand posed.
“Well actually, clever clogs, I'm gonna have the el Diablo.”
“Hark at her!”
“What are you having, Amanda?” Dad asked.
“The erm Tagliatelle Carbonara Lachs please.”

Damn that sounds good, I bet it’ll be a big plate too. I can hardly change my mind though, not after making a deal of having pizza. And the el Diablo does sound good, jalapeños, onion, beef, ham, olives, mozzarella and mushrooms with a chilli sauce drizzled over everything. The waiter returned with our drinks and took our order, Dad rounding out the order with his Conchiglie al Pollo.

“When do we leave on Saturday, Dad?”
“Not too early.”
“So I can work?”
“When I said not early I meant not crack of dawn, we should be away by about ten.”

Bum, I could’ve done with the dosh.

“I'd best let Therese know.”

My Handy chose that moment to buzz and vibrate across the table, what now?

Maddy Bell © 12.01.17