On Your Bike
Listeners may have noticed that two of our presenters - and - have developed a sudden obsession with bicycles and are currently puffing and panting their way across different parts of Scotland. This is all very well, but it makes me feel very guilty every time I park my car in the garage at home and see my new bike hanging there on the rack with the tyres still so new that they still have those little nipples of rubber on them.
So much for good intentions. I bought that bike a few months back but a couple of weeks later the front brake developed a terrible squeak and, well, I never got round to sorting it.
Yet I used to be such a keen cycylist and still have the scars to prove it. I have a little dent on my chin from the day I went head over handlebars while speeding along the little country road between Monifieth and Barry. My sister - who was a hundred yards behind me - came rushing to my rescue with the comforting words "look at all that blood...there'e a huge hole in your chin...I can see right through!"
Then years later, the bike was my only means of transport as I tried to woo a girl in Prestwick. Trouble was, I lived in the east end of Glasgow. I set off very early one morning, cycled down the A77 and left a box of Milk Tray on her doorstep. Then I turned around and headed home. I remember getting to Kilmarnock and thinking this wasn't the best idea I'd ever had. By the time I got home - late that night - I was shaking and dehydrated and spent the next three days in bed.
Ah, but the joys of the open road. I do envy Tom and Lesley. Well, just a bit.
