The horror...
By TMX Archives on 10th Aug 04
WHEN Iwas in California at the start of the year I spent a day putting out the vibe, shuffling around Ontario Mills which is a typically oversized American shopping mall.The result of that day was an absolute thrashing of the credit card but WHEN Iwas in California at the start of the year I spent a day putting out the vibe, shuffling around Ontario Mills which is a typically oversized American shopping mall.The result of that day was an absolute thrashing of the credit card but with that came some fantastic bargains. The most notable was my genuine snakeskin shoes - classics they are, real gangster like, tan brown with a white stripe down the side like Starsky and Hutch's Ford Torino. And now I've got a matching head!I went out for a spin on my Revell MTB a few days ago, all the time being careful not to damage it so Revs can draw some decent shillings for it at the end of the year (and, of course, avoid calling on the air ambulance).When I got back from my day of cycling around the very sunny and hot New Forest and glanced in the mirror I noticed that I looked like a toffee apple - my milk-white, almost translucent body forming the admittedly chunky stick and my over-ripe tomato of a head the bit you suck on. The white stripe came from the classic panda eyes affect of wearing my sunnies all day.Okay, this description doesn't sound like it matches the shoes but that was then - by this morning the red bits had turned brown and began to flake, rather like a snake with leprosy. I could get a bit part in a horror flick at the minute - although that wouldn't be a bad thing as I've done absolutely nothing else this month other than continuing to occupy the sofa.There are reasons for that - other than me just being a fat slob with a big blistering head. I've been feeling under par for some time, since about two weeks before the British GP in fact. I thought it was just because I was actually doing something that resembled work and was so anxious to help make the event a success that I didn't feel 100 per cent because. But I've been feeling progressively worse and worse so finally I went to the quack. The result - after various x-rays, ECG and blood tests - is that I have a virus.Phew, was I relieved - I thought I was over-training! I've been feeling real tired and drained of energy and believe me at the pace I move that's drained. I've had a job to complete my normal training regime - I've even had to sit down while the kettle boils and send Laura up to the Spar shop for the doughnuts. And boy do I hope it rains down here soon because watering the garden has being too much of a physical demand.When you're normally so fit and healthy then not being able to do active stuff is hard to deal with. Joking aside, it's a weird thing. I'm not saying I'm fit because frankly I'm not but I've always been healthy and this is the first time my health has been threatened. It ain't pleasant.So after missing Wakes Colne because of my groin and now Hawkstone and Desertmartin because of this, I'm hoping I can get to Pontrilas. Then to finish off the year on a high on the Isle of Wight on the track I designed with Lord J would have a nice sentimental feel about it.Regardless of how it's been recently, I've had a rewarding year with the team and the GP. Next year will be different so racing at Gore Basin may well be my last British championship, I'll just see how it goes. Perhaps I'll keep going as the minibikes have rejuvenated me in a fantastic way? It is a craze that's sweeping the bike world but it's more than that for me - when I ride them it doesn't just remind me of what it was like when I started racing, it actually feels like it. They are so much fun just to go out on with a few mates and tear it up.Now the antibiotics are kicking in I've been out with the lads this week for a blast. We made a - to use a good ol' US of A term - bitching track in a disused pit near my house. It had everything - tabletops, off-cambers, berms, drop-offs and carnage. Once again the natural born idiot named Rosco came away with the majority of the post-race talking points. Somehow he managed to crash into an eight-foot ditch, causing the rest of us to fight off the tears of laughter (something that's difficult to do when you have a friend in distress).So off he went back to the van with not only his tail between his legs but also his head, looking like he was gonna throw and without even so much as an apology for cutting the race short. He recovered well for the totally illegal midnight run around the streets and paths of my hometown though. Four good friends, four popping and banging minibikes, one high speed over-the-bars crash, a favourite pair of overpriced jeans torn and one broken clutch lever. All under a beautifully lit full moon, oh the romance of it all! Unconditional bliss!Then I took my skidder off and revealed the horror of The Snakeman...