Grooted Bikes and Nosey Dogs.

A dirty bike is a happy bike, so a good friend on the internet tells me, and that being the case, well then the Voodoo must've been pretty contented with life recently. 

You know how happy your dog looks rolling in something utterly despicable and smelly? Well that's how this bike will have been feeling. It'd been a while since I last cleaned it, and things had finally got to the point where I couldn't take it any longer, it was properly grooted (technical term), and sod the bike's inner well being, my happiness needed to take its turn.

I don't know how this feather came to be clinging to the down tube through thick and thin, I haven't collided with any birds that I can think of, although on the back lanes you're never far away from collecting a dimwitted Pheasant. Nope, no idea how it got there, or how it lasted for several rides in such a vulnerable position. 

Now I should tell the tale of the pleasure to be had from spending quality cleaning time with one's mount. The slow joy of going over every inch of the machine, cleaning and polishing, brushing and rubbing, and restoring its glow before then drying and oiling, and then standing back to rejoice at the fruits of one's labours...

Sod that! Much as I enjoy having a clean bike, I no longer enjoy the act of cleaning it. Never mind anything else, it can play hell with my back, so it's best done with as quickly as possible. So I got busy with the pressure washer (I know, but it's worth risking blowing the grease out here and there just to get the mud off so easily) and the bucket of suds. Then in the evening, I wheeled it inside and gave it a once over with some GT85 and some Pledge, meaning the living room now smells very nice indeed. GT85 has to be the second best smell known to man (the first being Castrol R, obviously).

Now that's better.

So having now once again got a clean shiny bike, what's the best way to keep it that way? Ride something else, that's what. Enter the Carerra and another ride into the local woods for coffee. 

 It's clangertime! Heading out on the old snotter.

The spot by the river I had in mind meant riding along the lower path in the woods, and as the name suggests, it is at the bottom of a socking great hill, so prone to staying wet and muddy when other paths in the wood are dry. So I wasn't going to ruin my good work by taking the Voodoo, not the day after giving it a good tickling with the sponges and dusters. Nope, it had to be the old clanger, that's what old snotters are for after all.

 This section wasn't bad at all, as it drains and is dried by the sun well. Other parts of this path though were still just a tad sticky and gooey.

So once again, a relaxing and enjoyable time was had chilling by the stream in the peace and quiet. Well almost, as I was mobbed by about half a dozen assorted dogs on two occasions, as they headed out, and then back again, on their morning walks. Their owner was of little help, she looked as mad as they come, with wild hair and an equally bizarre clothing sense. So noses and cocked legs were everywhere, but I think my discarded jacket, and my mug of coffee escaped unscathed. The old wreck was not so lucky however as a rather manky looking spaniel peed on its front wheel, adding to the indignities thrust upon it in the form of cosmetic neglect and relegation to hack status. 

Nice spot to enjoy some peace and quiet. Well, mad women and their dogs apart of course.

I'll make it up to it though, as I have a new chain and cassette ready to go on for winter, and no doubt I'll lob a bucket of only slightly grimy water over it at the same time I fit them, that should do the trick. It might be a bit of a heap, but I'll keep it running as long as I can. 

Old biffabouts are worth their weight in gold when it comes to just getting on and riding wherever whenever.