The seven ages of the cyclist
SimonAH
Posts: 3,730
With apologies to the bard;
All the road’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one rider in his time plays many parts;
His acts being seven ages. At first the newbie, mewling and nodding on the BSO’s knobblies.
And then the keener student with his backpack.
And shining morning face, creeping like a snail unwillingly to the office.
And then the lover, puffing like a furnace but with improving technique bent to his traffic light honours.
Then a soldier. Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard. Jealous in honour, sudden and quick on the embankment, seeking the strava reputation even in Richmond Park.
And then the Justice, in fair beer belly with good Doombar lined. With thousand yard eyes and beard now shave’d. Full of wise words and arcane groupset knowledge.
And so he plays his part.
The sixth age shifts into the lean lycra’d old man on a bike. With glasses on nose and bumbag on side. His youthful twinkle, well saved, a worldly disguise for his blistering pace, and his soft spoken voice turning again toward childlike glee as retirement comes around.
Last scene of all that ends this strange eventful history is second childishness and touring freedom sans mortgage, sans rat-race, sans deadlines, sans everything.
All the road’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one rider in his time plays many parts;
His acts being seven ages. At first the newbie, mewling and nodding on the BSO’s knobblies.
And then the keener student with his backpack.
And shining morning face, creeping like a snail unwillingly to the office.
And then the lover, puffing like a furnace but with improving technique bent to his traffic light honours.
Then a soldier. Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard. Jealous in honour, sudden and quick on the embankment, seeking the strava reputation even in Richmond Park.
And then the Justice, in fair beer belly with good Doombar lined. With thousand yard eyes and beard now shave’d. Full of wise words and arcane groupset knowledge.
And so he plays his part.
The sixth age shifts into the lean lycra’d old man on a bike. With glasses on nose and bumbag on side. His youthful twinkle, well saved, a worldly disguise for his blistering pace, and his soft spoken voice turning again toward childlike glee as retirement comes around.
Last scene of all that ends this strange eventful history is second childishness and touring freedom sans mortgage, sans rat-race, sans deadlines, sans everything.
FCN 5 belt driven fixie for city bits
CAADX 105 beastie for bumpy bits
Litespeed L3 for Strava bits
Smoke me a kipper, I'll be back for breakfast.
CAADX 105 beastie for bumpy bits
Litespeed L3 for Strava bits
Smoke me a kipper, I'll be back for breakfast.
0
Comments
-
You've got too much time on your hands.FCN 3: Raleigh Record Ace fixie-to be resurrected sometime in the future
FCN 4: Planet X Schmaffenschmack 2- workhorse
FCN 9: B Twin Vitamin - winter commuter/loan bike for trainees
I'm hungry. I'm always hungry!0 -
