I had an interesting commute this morning.
Firstly, Buterfly & I set out a bit late (knackered after the weekend, and trying to do boring home stuff round the edges - kudos to Butterfly for managing so much laundry!
). But it was sunny, and Butterfly's legs obviously still thought they were on the Van Nicholas, because she got the tandem moving really well.
Loads of cyclists in Streatham was pleasing to see, and Butterfly had a big grin on her face all the way to work.
OK, so we were delayed by the level crossing gates being down for three trains, but it didn't break our rhythm too much. And the car which pulled out on her at one roundabout and the car which was dissuaded from doing so by my impersonation of a car horn at the next roundabout didn't mar the mood. Nor did the car which was reversing onto the road without looking, to whom I gave a stern 'NO!'. I felt a bit like Barbra Woodouse, though I can manage without the plaid skirt.
I saw a chap carrying a bike over his shoulder. I noticed that the carbon forks were completely snapped through. Wondering how it was that he was walking after such a catastrophic failure, I wheeled around and stopped to check he was OK.
He's a courier (though no work today, I fear). A little hungover, he explained that he hadn't been on the bike when it happened. It seems there had been some misunderstanding after he had crashed out at someone's flat last night, and the disgruntled other party had sent the bike in freefall from the top of the block of flats. Given that, it is amazing that the rest of the frame looked so good. But the forks, as I say, were snapped, and the front wheel was more heart shaped than round. I suspect he was hoping to salvage the hub.
Anyway, rather than go to a bike shop first off, he was heading for a beer and a sit down in the sunshine. He seemed cheerful enough in the circumstances, so I wished him well, and rode on.
Lastly, I saw Peewit. Or, rather, he saw me and waved as he passed by along New Kent Road. Good to see a friend cycling happily.
