Oh, the excitement of a micro adventure. Wattmeisterin and husband decided to eschew the delights of the capital and head out to Dunstable for a teeny weeny break in the WattVan.
To make up for the omission of bicycles, The Wattmeister decided to drive the self same route to the Ashridge Estate as if he was cycling, but of course excluding the footbridge over the A1 known mysteriously as Horse Shit Bridge.
Whetstone, Rowley Lane and Well End came and went as he simultaneously drove the van and delivered a running commentary to the enthralled Wattmeisterin as if he was on the bike; including gear selections, potholes and of course, favourite Strava segments.
Lo and behold, after cresting the small rise to Shenley, a rider came hurtling towards them at speed. The commentary ceased abruptly. Wattmeister’s eyesight may not be as sharp as it once was, but he immediately identified the rider as Slayer from Muswell Hill Peloton.
Characteristically holding a slightly upright posture on a bike a tad too small for him, Slayer was nevertheless riding like a man who had just remembered that the laundrette closes early on a Tuesday. There was no time to execute a handbrake turn, so Slayer was left to stampede back to Muswell Hill.
The Wattmeister made a mental note to promote Slayer to the second best rider in his street of residence (even numbers). The commentary resumed seamlessly, though by this time, The Wattmeisterin had dozed off, as is her wont in the early afternoon.